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[kavinsky certainly has a thing he does where he keeps his cool. technically. chill, though, he has none of.

they'll probably throw him out too, if they catch him. and that seems exponentially more likely now with reggie laughing his ass off, causing a little bit of an uproar. kavinsky twists his head around to regard the other import. kavinsky's face sharpens immediately with recognition. he saw this dude's face miniaturized on his comm device a few weeks ago. well, miniaturized and somewhat less ecstatic about bearing witness to some serious dickishness, but maybe that's just because kavinsky had been slightly less dickish on the network back then.]

Heyyyyy.

[he's still holding the gross piece of paper up in empty air, but he appears to have forgotten that the wibbling fanartist exists. he brightens.] You're that Reggie kid, right? [kavinsky would probably still refer to him as such even if reggie were some years older. he nods his head by way of greeting, a lazy grin splaying his mouth.] How's it going? Don't give yourself a hernia, man.

Edited (fix) 2016-04-24 03:29 (UTC)

I'm okay -- I'll live. [ Once the laughter has finally gotten under control Reggie returns the grin, casually. ] And it's just Reggie; I'm almost nineteen, for pete's sake.

[ Though "kid" is something that Reggie's gotten pretty used to hearing even despite not caring for it -- that's just what happens when you hang out mostly with people older than you -- so it doesn't piss him off anymore, at least. He also isn't sure himself of how old Kavinksy is, although he'd guess they were more or less the same age. ]

Goin' better now. I had to deal with some of my fans earlier and I've been dodgin' security ever since. [ He shrugs it off dismissively, though. ] Not that crowds like this make it hard. One good thing about 'em.

[ He hasn't forgotten the fanartist, nor does he pretend to; he makes eye contact with her and holds it while he continues speaking to Kavinsky: ]

Seein' as otherwise we're stuck mingling with a bunch of perverts.

[the fanartist is trying to melt into a puddle, perhaps coagulate on the floor. escape through a sewage grate. it'd be a good move, if she had powers, or if reggie had the ability to liquefy people with his eyes. but alas.

she's left sidling slowly, as kavinsky studies his new companion affably.]

You got some too? 'Cause the hat trick? [is his guess, his eyes crinkling with instant amusement.] Bet that's some fanart right there. Hey, you want this? Might be able to sell it on Ebay. [yes, he's referring to the picture, creased from the aforementioned other creased part of kavinskys anatomy. he brandishes the contaminated sheet of paper with more generosity than the situation is honestly warranted, then turns it to reggie, face-up.

this time, the botched image of ronan doesn't seem to bother him at all, judging from his face, his tone. but kavinsky is a very good liar, and that extends far beyond the simple capacity to make up words that move in the opposite direction of the truth.]

[ Alas indeed... she'll just have to suffer there in silence until the moment is right to make a getaway, which luckily enough at least shouldn't be much longer now that Reggie and Kavinsky have each other to amuse themselves with.

Reggie gives her another look for the time being just to let her know that he hasn't forgotten about her yet, though, before he looks back at the crinkled piece of paper with his nose wrinkled. ]

Nah -- I'm star material enough without that. It's all my good looks and charming personality. [ He shakes his head. ] You keep it. I know too much about where it's been.

[kavinsky snorts, his heavy-lidded eyes crinkling with laughter.] Not Biblically you don't, [he answers, merrily. he drops the sheet of paper, doing a favor to everybody except whoever is going to unwittingly clean it up later. kavinsky then turns his back on it, as well as the girl slowly sinking into the earth some yards behind.]

Cool, man. So you buying some of your own swag?

[he automatically reaches for the nearest piece of fandom paraphernelia on display, which turns out to be a small action figure. incidentally of a russian soldier. kavinsky glances down at it, and a knot appears between his eyebrows, just the briefest. the next instant, he holds it up and twists the figurine's little arms around so it's basically offering reggie a hug.] You got these? You and your girlfriend or whatever the fuck?

[ Reggie's eyebrow arches upward abruptly, expression momentarily skeptical, but he allows the subject change with a passively agreeable silence as he also turns, following Kavinsky further through the hall. ]

If I see anything that accurately captures my splendid character I will -- though it seems like a real crime to have to pay for it. Shouldn't we get at least be getting royalties or something?

[ He looks down at the little soldier toy, which to him has no meaning or significance; just a toy. ]

Nah, neither of us play with dolls. Well... at least as far as I know, it's not like we live together. Plus she can be kind of a freak. [ Lifting his hand, Reggie flicks the figurine in the face. ] So far I've seen plenty that's just worth a laugh, not my money. You know?

[kavinsky sniffs, and discards the diminutive plastic russian. fortunately, he leaves it undamaged and uncontaminated. small blessings. almost significant, considering that he hates russians even more than he hates the idea of ronan lynch being happy.] Shit.

Hate to break it to you, but you aren't so fuckin' hot. Or charming, if you don't have fucking merchandise. [he sweeps a hand across the convention space. there is an awful lot of swag. and it is awfully, awfully commercialized.] Or you keeping the freak indoors too much, I dunno. Maybe get her out on a leash.

[misogyny. so attractive.]

I could definitely use some fucking royalties, though. [running guns is fun, but feeling the pinch of limited finances in a world beset by supertechy communists, not so much.]

[ Reggie's not much better -- will in fact say almost the exact same thing back home, later in his respective future -- so it's not that comment he takes exception to, but rather the insinuations about his appearance. ]

No good merchandise I said, not none -- if all the so-called "talent" here didn't have the motor-skills of a brain-damaged chimpanzee I'd wallpaper my damn room with posters of myself. [ He gestures to himself two-handedly, pointing with his thumbs. ] I'm perfect from head to toe. I mean, what are you, blind?

[ As if it's the rudest thing that could be said to him. ]

Yeah, I so know what you mean. [ Back home he never even used to have to worry about money. A long time ago, of course. ] Seems like the least they can do is share the profits -- I never have enough money anymore, even working my ass off. And I hate working.

[kavinsky says so much ruder things to people, though. so much ruder. reggie's display leaves the bulgarian kid staring a moment, contemplative, entertained. it's not the most actively sadistic look he's ever worn on his face, actually. while kavinsky enjoys himself a diabolical cackle at somebody else's expense now and then, he's also a creature of calculation and creepy understatement. particularly when he encounters monsters.

maybe reggie's ego counts. kavinsky's smile widens.]

Aw shit, [he says.] All right princess. Take it easy. You wearing shoes, socks, and a shitton of clothes, man. How's a guy supposed to see? [he laughs. it's an awful sound. he thinks there's something wrong with reggie, but not necessarily in a bad way.]

Working is bull—l, [he agrees, emphatically.] But your power seems like a money-maker. [he cocks his head.] Wal-Mart. No? Bars of gold? Plastic port-a-vagina? [a beat.] I gotta start a port-a-vagina business. Damn.

[ Reggie's ego is monstrous all right, the kind that can very easily become dangerous if bruised or stroked -- especially because he's much more often impulsive and reactive than he is calculating.

He exhales with a huff, popping his collar. ]

As if my face isn't right here -- what do you want, an invitation to feel my abs? [ He still sounds irritable, but with ego on the line he does raise his shirt up. ] I mean, you ever seen anything that perfect?

[ Kavinsky wouldn't be the first person to suspect that, though perhaps the first one not to be bothered by the possibility. Maybe because no matter what is (or could be) wrong with Reggie, Kavinsky might just be worse -- or at least acts worse -- and Reggie feels strangely affirmed by that idea. ]

Hey, if I had any control over it, I'd be in business already -- and probably living the good life again on top of that instead of just settling for the highest offers. [ He figures it's probably karma or something, getting ripped off in such a specific way. ] ... Sounds like some kind of Honey Bucket hooker service, you might want to change the name. Unless that's the point.

[kavinsky is definitely worse. almost definitely. they should compare felony lists at some point— kavinsky has a few, enhanced by magic, resulting in death. the fact that none of said deaths were on purpose probably doesn't make it better.

anyway: he's touching reggie's abs. which do feel nice. very taut. kind of springy. kavinsky boings his fingertips off them, then flicks his index across. it's got the rebound of a supple young bamboo. very nice. kavinsky frowns, conceding reggie's point. i mean i guess it depends on what you're into, but he does have a thing for ragey young brunettes.] Okay, [he says, finally retracting his evil paw.] You know what you talking about.

Man, I was talking about selling some sex toys. Are you a ho? Really?

[kavinsky has a tendency to leap to some wild conclusions, to be fair, the conversation is leaning that way more than most conversations do. besides, more seventeen-year-olds probably think about hiring prostitutes than than they admit.]

[ Sounds like a fun date. Granted, Reggie's rap sheet is more of an informal one, but it's also pretty full of unintentional death. Always a great thing to bond over.

It's about at the moment Kavinsky really lets himself linger that Reggie recognizes it was maybe a little overly impulsive to invite someone to feel him up in public -- so really, with Reggie there are less wild conclusions one could jump to. He thinks about what he says even less than about what he does.

When Kavinsky withdraws his hand Reggie pulls his shirt down, looking vaguely smug from the compliment. Damn right, that look says. ]

Do they usually make those things out of plastic? [ Maybe that's a stupid question -- he hopes not. ] ... No way. I've got a legit job -- it just doesn't cover everything, not with my high standard of living.

[ And not when you have a drug problem. ]

I'd sooner think about porn. That always seemed like easy money.

Huh. Legit.

[kavinsky thinks briefly about dreaming porn into being. he'd make a killing, he realizes. but he abruptly finds himself wary of the idea too well for uniquely personal reasons. suppose the dude-- or one of the dudes-- suddenly morphed into ronan lynch. suppose words were said. suppose he dreamed himself into it. this would be humiliating in ways that kavinsky can barely conceive of. his ego is so large that it actually blocks out detailed imagination of such private horror. for a dedicated liar, that degree of conscious and subconscious exposure is more than he can abide.

for once, he has to acknowledge a bad idea and leave it be. for once.]

I wanna make you that fucking giant-ass hat, [he announces, instead. changing the subject. if reggie's watching closely, he might observe that this is a subtle sign of discomfort, but it actually is pretty subtle. mostly because kavinsky has no attention span as it is.] See what we get. You got time now? Tomorrow?

[ Reggie could understand that fear -- would probably, in fact, worry about the exact same thing had he the same kind of powers. He doesn't though, so his own hesitation where motion porn is concerned stems from other insecurities... in the end, though, it does still all come down to humiliation. Better to just show himself off than try to perform with other people, especially ones with more experience and that he can't curate himself.

But, well, those anxieties are probably a good argument (among others) against getting into porn as a teenager in the first place -- not that someone as narcissistic as Reggie is likely to discard the idea entirely as long as he still runs into money problems. ]

Uh -- sure. We could try it, though I don't know where you expect us to find a hat that big on short notice. Let alone make one.

[ He observes something -- or thinks he does -- in that he accepts the need for a subject change without comment, but it's still overall a little too subtle for him; when Reggie gets embarrassed or defensive he has a lot of trouble hiding it. So... maybe nothing. Who knows. ]

I've got time whenever. You want to do it now? Let's go.

Ways and means, sweetheart, [kavinsky answers, cheerfully. he backs up, fiddling with his sunglasses, glances around to look for the best way out. it makes him look a bit suspicious. kavinsky generally looks a bit suspicious, but at least there is a minimal amount of narcotic substances involved today.

then he looks back at reggie, nods his head toward the exit. his car is out that way.] Check it. [and then he takes off, loping off, his gait lazy but quick. fake chemical energy. by now, most of the audience he'd gathered earlier has dispersed.]

Hey. [his mind jumps tracks again as they approach the door.] Which of these weird fucking retro cities you like to hang out in most? [the more distance they put between themselves and the uncomfortable porn imaginings, the better, by kavinsky's book. hell, he's half-forgotten already, but there's the other half to go.]

Whatever you say, stud.

[ He deadpans a little skeptically, but follows Kavinsky in the direction of the exit. The two of them definitely don't make for an auspicious sight, but it's probably for the best they get out of there anyway -- before they cause any more trouble and get kicked out.

Still, it crosses Reggie's mind that this might be a bad idea, just going off with some crass and mouthy potential psycho in his car without telling anyone... but so what, honestly? Reggie does nothing but act on bad ideas 98% of the time, and he's still alive so far. Besides, it could be interesting. Fun, even? By whatever loose definition Reggie considers things "fun" these days. ]

Here, usually -- Heropa, 'cause it's where I live. Nonah's not too bad either, though.

[kavinsky considers that for a moment. heropa is okay. nonah sounds terrible-- based on his native universe's version of north carolina, at least. he wouldn'tve tolerated de chima if he weren't hung up on the circumstances of his own death in the old world. maurtia falls, he'd thought, was where assholes go to thrive.

but maybe there is more than one way to thrive. or there's more than one kind of asshole. alternatively, he's just going to help ruin reggie's life for funsies, given enough time an incentive.] You gotta come up to Maurtia Falls some time, man. City looks good. Stays up late. You can get whatever you want. Maybe even something for the little bit droop on the left side, baby. [he juts his chin at reggie's abdomen, and then winks.

joking. but he'd be entertained by a little bit of righteous fury, even as they make it out into the parking lot. the white mitsubishi sticks out like a sore thumb among older model vehicles.]

[ Reggie likes Nonah for the same -- or at least similar -- reasons to why most people like Maurtia Falls, actually; he likes the nightlife and the liveliness, which Nonah can provide without everything that makes him uneasy about Pennsylvania. Not that he'd say so. If someone insisted, then sure, he'd agree.

However, he's definitely going to play dumb to that little insinuation, especially since he's not actually 100% sure how to interpret it. People were always finding new ways to talk shit... ]

Whatever that means. [ He scoffs, straightening his shoulders to re-impose some air of dignity before he gives the car an appreciative look-over. ] Damn. Nice wheels, dude -- you had it long?

[ Then, after a pause, he adds: ]

I mean, we can go wherever, makes no difference to me. Right about now "anywhere but here" sounds equally promising.

[kavinsky finds the key fob in his pocket, and the evo lancer chirps open. like a gentleman (sort of) (this once), the bulgarian boy goes around and opens the door for his guest, standing there until reggie inserts himself into the vehicle. even though the car is white-- save for the black knife graphic spattered edgily (EDGILY) up its side, it's managed to accumulate heat inside. as cars do.

but kavinsky climbs in and jacks up the air-conditioning pretty high. before he's even done pulling out of the parking space, there are arctic winds pulsing out of the vents.] Had it a few months, [he answers.] Faster than my old one. But I dunno what this year's model looks like. Downside of getting fucking kidnapped by 'porter technology.' Or whatever. [kavinsky doesn't particularly understand the actual mechanics that led him to be here. nobody does, of course, but he cares less than most. mostly he thinks in terms of fate and hate.

he's here because ronan's here. there's still only one way this story ends.

but the middle can involve all kinds of fun people and stupid things!]

You should see what she does on the highway, man. Or the track. You know any of that shit? [you never know what kind of world people come from.]

[ Such manners, goodness. Reggie slides into the car, sitting back in the seat and propping his feet up on the dash like an asshole, especially considering how much he hated when people would do that shit in his car. But, hey; who is he if not someone who holds himself to a different standard than everyone else?

Though the AC's on, Reggie also proceeds to shrug his leather jacket off, because outside the convention center in the light of day it's hot as hell. ]

Eh. Yeah, I guess I can see that, but being here driving last year's cars has still got to be a step-up from wherever else we could be. All in all, this place at least comes with perks.

[ Since the alternatives include things like zombie apocalypses, which Reggie personally wants no further part of. No thank you. Even the subject of cars is a little iffy because Reggie can't help but keep remembering that one stupid night, that stupid reckless swerve of the wheel that led him to hit and kill Hot Dog, but it's much more easily faked than being anxious about going home would be. ]

Sure, I know cars. I used to get a new one practically every birthday. [ In case there was any doubt about that high standard of living he says he's used to. ] Never did any racing with them, though -- my dad probably would've broken my legs if I ever did something like crash and drove up his insurance premiums.

[ But he shrugs, waving that off. ]

No big loss, wasn't much of a dragging scene where I'm from anyway. Plenty of other kinds of fun you can have in them, though.

[funnily enough, it's one of kavinsky's best and worst qualities— that he cares very, very little for his material possessions. back in another world, an older time, there's a car he dreamt with pen marks on the dash. another with chainsaw marks gnawed through the tires. still others burnt to a crisp.

needless to say: he doesn't mind reggie's feet up on the front. he laughs instead, pleased enough to have someone like of mind. be as it may, that reggie might prize his own possessions above those of others. it doesn't bother kavinsky right now. he has nothing in the way of principles or consistency— why would he expect anyone else to? the mitsubishi squeals out into the blaze of heat. kavinsky's bony fingers sketch over the control panel, rolling the music down.

it's a deep, savage, pulsing beat. techno.]

Sweet of your old man to care, [he offers, lightly. if he knew reggie any better, he might even hate him for this— for having a dad who did in fact give two shits. material or otherwise. he drives out into traffic, cutting off somebody who blares at them from a cute li'l old bug.] You talking about fucking in the backseat? [he asks.] Road head? Your girl sounds like she'd fuck around with teeth, though. Just saying.

Mmh. Yeah. He always cares when it's his money involved.

[ Reggie sneer-smirks, taking the comment as sarcasm regardless of the intent -- he's fairly convinced that his dad would only care about his car insurance if Reggie were to crash, the Mantles are not exactly a close or nurturing family.

Unperturbed, he refolds his legs -- swapping which one is crossed over the other -- and leans further back in his seat once they get moving, getting himself comfortable with one arm leaning against the ledge of the window. ]

Sure, driving out to some place quiet, fooling around for a while... [ Not that Reggie really went "all the way" back home, but "fooling around" still covers a fair amount of ground. He shrugs, still smirking mildly. ] Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, man. A little teeth isn't always bad.

[kavinsky sounds both doubtful and unconcerned.] If you say so, man. You sound like a match made in a whitebread dom dungeon, [he laughs. it occurs to him that not even a full-on vampire could hurt him these days. if he thinks about it much longer, he's going to want to hire a vampire to try it out on, so.

focusing. he zips between lanes, roving over toward a mall in the distance. the seven-tier parking lot structure behind it, the concrete glinting grey in the floridian sunshine. he pulls toward it, ignoring an angry burst of a horn behind them. he adds,] Changed my mind. Your old man sounds like a royal cunt. [his voice is light.

and perhaps disappointingly now, he's pulling onto the car park ramp. shadow lips over the roof, darkening the windows.]

Ugh. I wouldn't go that far.

[ His nose wrinkles, though Reggie isn't even sure which part of that statement he actually takes objection to -- the "dungeon" part, or the "match" part, weirdly enough. ]

I'm not into the whole "relationship" thing, but it's too much effort to call things off when I'm at least getting laid on the regular. Why not just enjoy the moment, right? [ Playing it off, playing it casual. He sits up more properly when Kavinsky speeds up, looking out the car windows as he shrugs. ] Yeah, that about sums him up. Whatever, though -- that's parents for you.

[reggie's answer gets a lifted eyebrow. there is a lot that kavinsky could say to that, none of it kind and little of it congratulatory, but he chooses not to because it's boring. instead, he just laughs like a psychotic donkey for a second, and then he says,] You tell yourself whatever you tell yourself, sweetheart.

[in the meantime, kavinsky will tell himself that reggie is somewhat available.

but first things first. the mitsubishi swings up the ramp, a squeak of rubber as they spin around the massive central column. kavinsky finds them a spot on level two, driving up too fast, until he abruptly brakes into the rectangular space. it's then that kavinsky leans across reggie's lap, elbowing his legs aside to get something from the boot.

pills. extremely violently-colored pills. in a few weeks, when kavinsky has a small problem with billy's magic and isn't kavinsky properly anymore, reggie might even recognize these pills. brutal red, and a luminous, nearly radioactive-looking green. kavinsky shakes his plastic bag.]

How big a hat we thinking?

FANPORT OVERFLOW LOG

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