[kavinsky's movements are elastic. too much kinetic energy trapped in his little bones and thin limbs, but loose, like he'll sooner snap apart than wreak true havoc. but ronan always had the wrong impression about him, just like that; he looks less innocent to the other dream thief now, but it's not because he looks any different. physically, he's the same. slight, slouchy, the wind working his hair out of its gel prison, his face white in the semi-dark as he glances at ronan.
he started a molotov cocktail while the taller boy was climbing down. fast and efficient. after all, he did program prokopenko with all the fancy skills.
the flame burns incandescent. gasoline glittering inside. kavinsky holds it out to the silent boy and there's a weird pinch of haste in his gut that isn't for himself, because he's invincible, when he asks,] Well don't fucking say nothing, Rain Man, but you remember, don't you? [nobody wants half a tattoo. it's not the same as concern. not. exactly.]
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he started a molotov cocktail while the taller boy was climbing down. fast and efficient. after all, he did program prokopenko with all the fancy skills.
the flame burns incandescent. gasoline glittering inside. kavinsky holds it out to the silent boy and there's a weird pinch of haste in his gut that isn't for himself, because he's invincible, when he asks,] Well don't fucking say nothing, Rain Man, but you remember, don't you? [nobody wants half a tattoo. it's not the same as concern. not. exactly.]