Being welcomed by the town? No, I'm afraid not. I don't believe I have that experience. How fortunate for you that you feel so quickly welcomed. [ He means it honestly -- both in that he doesn't feel that soul-deep connection with the city that some people (largely drug addicts, in his opinion) feel, and that he has never been particularly welcome in the city that he loves. He won't be going into that with a stranger, however. ] The drug? I think I may, yes. It sounds as though they put you on some sort of depressant.

[ Kim gently grabs Artemy's chin, making him stay still for a moment so he can check the state of his pupils and his slow, lazy gaze, then releases him. He takes off one of his gloves and presses his fingers to the pulse point on Artemy's wrist to see if anything seems amiss. ]

Do you feel very hot, or very cold? Any pain in your chest, or perhaps your head? Are you having any difficulties breathing?

[ Almost by habit, Kim whips out his notebook and scrawls a few notes, illegible to most even on a good day; with Artemy looking as though he may feel relaxed enough to simply keel over at any minute, there's no chance of him looking them over. Not that there's anything particularly incriminating written there. Merely a catalogue of the stranger's symptoms, with a note that he was one of the victims (or perhaps beneficiaries) of the odd drug testing exercise the less prudent among lost souls have been convinced to do. ]