Boys’ toys, it sounds like to Victor, not necessarily in a disparaging way, but it’s a place of pleasure that he had never clawed for personally.
But the more he watches Kavinsky speak and move the more Victor sees flickers of something with teeth. Not just teeth in the sense of the fang-filled grins the younger man tosses up, but something deeper and darker, a maw that Victor knows he has himself hidden not too far beneath the surface.
Kavinsky is probably high on something too—Victor can feel the thrumming in the air around Kavinsky, or more accurately can feel the energy chattering away incessantly along Kavinsky’s nerves like an old dial-up internet chord.
He leans across the bar slowly, closer to Kavinsky with a kind of vague amusement playing over his lips.
“Breaking from reality in a drug-induced state?” How nostalgic.
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But the more he watches Kavinsky speak and move the more Victor sees flickers of something with teeth. Not just teeth in the sense of the fang-filled grins the younger man tosses up, but something deeper and darker, a maw that Victor knows he has himself hidden not too far beneath the surface.
Kavinsky is probably high on something too—Victor can feel the thrumming in the air around Kavinsky, or more accurately can feel the energy chattering away incessantly along Kavinsky’s nerves like an old dial-up internet chord.
He leans across the bar slowly, closer to Kavinsky with a kind of vague amusement playing over his lips.
“Breaking from reality in a drug-induced state?” How nostalgic.
“Or are we talking something more literal?”
Because who fucking knew in this place.