maskormenacelogs | 'cause i'm just holding on for tonight

[what the fuck is this, kavinsky wonders, interested. but also irritated-- mostly with his own powers, their limitations. he suddenly wishes he had telepathy. fyi he should definitely never have telepathy, that would be horrible for the entire universe tbh. but heavier than gum implies not gum, and that much is reassuring. kavinsky's expression smooths out into a smile, but it's only partly for that discovery, as he weighs the goods in his hand.

mostly, he likes her request. a woman after his own black heart.

he doesn't look at her backpack anymore. which probably means he's still curious, but going to put off prying for at least a little while.]

You wanna go somewhere right now?

[ Sarah answers him before she can think too much about it, because she's good at not thinking about things like this, but also because a low, animal part of her knows that if she spends more than a second contemplating her answer, it'll end up being "no". ]

Sure. What the hell, let's go somewhere.

[ She's assuming he knows a place. This isn't her city.

If Kavinsky checks out the stick of gum again, he'll see that it doesn't look like gum anymore, at all. It looks like a tiny plastic baggie, maybe dimebag sized, with bright blue meth inside. How classy is that? ]

[that

is so classy. kavinsky does look down for an instant, and then he just sort of goggles for the instant after that. that's brilliant. he reflexively clenches his hand shut on the bag the next moment, stuffing it into his pocket, managing to look pretty nonchalant about it. he still looks like a sketchy white boy because-- kavinsky's appearance is permanently stuck like that. but he's not half bad at getting away with the devil's work.]

Do strip clubs offend your sensibilities?

[his accent ruins it a little, but he tries for the affectation a moment-- a prissy twist to the words, laughter in his eyes. he takes a step back.]

Strip clubs?

[ For a second she's caught off guard. But she's already just agreed to get high with a teenager, and provided him with drugs, so what the hell, making this situation even seedier can't hurt. Too much. She shrugs and motions for him to go ahead. ] Lead the way, then.

[kavinsky does as requested. it's not so trivial a trip, as it turns out-- they're heading all the way out to maurtia falls. fortunately, one of the porter agents seems oddly amenable to letting them through with no paperwork. she might hear the name dropped: satya. it's not a connection that kavinsky takes advantage of often, but he's wont to show off, a little, and furthermore

he's curious as to what sarah's instincts will have to say about petyr baelish's establishment. kavinsky had heard when the club finally opened, more than a month ago now. however, he had been disinclined to immediately jump in, both feet, especially with something like an actual arms transaction. this seems like a nice way to test the waters. a couple pills and drinks from sarissa's paranoid twin-face mother-character sounds good.

they turn up at a strip club called the iron throne. judging from the height of kavinsky's eyebrows on his face, it's his first time here too.] The guy's kinda old school, [he offers to her, shrugging sidelong.] Alternative universe probably a psycho on a horse old school. Don't puss out on me now. [a wink, and then they push into the establishment.

which has a lot of velvet and candlelight, you will be interested to know! a very aesthetic skeeze.]

[ Sarah rolls her eyes when Kavinsky tells her not to puss out. A strip club might not be her first choice, but she's been around enough naked and nearly-naked people for it not to faze her. The interior of the place, with its velvet and candles, has her making a face, though. Aesthetic skeeze is right. Still, it'll be worth it if what Kavinsky's trading her does what she wants it to. ]

Nice place, [ she comments as she looks around, catches the eye of the woman working the bar, and holds eye contact for a few seconds before turning back to Kavinsky. ] You know the owner?

Yeah. [kavinsky is less interested in the women on display, at work, and more in the way that sarah looks at them. interesting. his eyes crinkle a little as he studies her profile, long enough to gauge the chemistry between her and the other woman. but then he's shrugging, nodding.] Guy named Petyr Baelish, [he says.] He's oldschool.

This shit is his aesthetic. [he jerks his chin at the floor. and then starts toward the private rooms in the back, waving at the nearest suit. he introduces himself-- a couple brusque words, and apparently he matches his description enough to warrant entry into a private room. a bouncer holds the door open for them and everything. kavinsky cocks his head at sarah.]

You want one of the girls? Or bottle service, some shit?

Bottle service is good, yeah.

[ She enters and takes a seat, watching Kavinsky carefully. This is so weird, and she feels off-center, not sure how she got to this place. Figuratively. She's too blunt for her own good, sometimes (a lot of times), so she comes right out and asks him about it. ]

So what the hell's with this, eh? Why do you get special treatment?

[kavinsky puts in their request for bottle service, and then surreptitiously checks his wallet. he isn't sure how far baelish's generosity extends, and it would be quite embarrassing for him to come up short.] Friends in low places, sweetheart. [satisfied that he has the cash, he heads into the private room.

there's a small stage, lit with light that simulates fire. couches draped in embroidered fabric, dense pillows. kavinsky drops his skinny frame down, and then pulls out a ziplock of lurid green pills from his pocket. he occupies himself digging one out.] You got an employer? [he asks.] Work for Jesse Pinkman, something like that?

[ Jesse's name catches her off guard, though she masks it fairly well and busies herself looking around the room, taking in the surroundings, and finally settling her gaze on the green pills Kavinsky's holding. She's glad she vetoed getting one of the girls in here. Having this conversation while a stripper watches them would make her way too uncomfortable. ]

Jesse's my friend, but you're out of your mind if you think I'm gonna tell you he's my boss. [ Which... isn't a denial of the fact that he's her boss. Technically. ]

'cause i'm just holding on for tonight

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

<_> do you mind if i play a little loose with timelines to make the pieces fit? +travel powerpose

not a problem!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject