[patted on the cheek. the emasculation always would've rubbed kavinsky the wrong way, but he isn't as well-defended or talented a liar about it as he used to be. he cants his head back, doesn't quite keep the grimace off his face. but oh, it's not the friendzone, is it? his eyes cut back to kurt. a certain amount of dates.

kavinsky's jaw drops open. he means to say: i don't date. what he'd mean if he said it was, i'm done dying of a broken heart. i'm dating me. i'm as stupid as a fucking dildo, but even i can figure out, sometimes, after enough of the same fuckup, that i need to stop fucking the fuck up.]

Look me up if you lower your standards some time, [is what comes out instead, eyes hooded, mouth crooked, the vague flicker of disappointed paved over with what passes for charm in kavinskyverse.] Or you wanna just neck. Or feed your friendly local vampire. No uninvited ass breach, promise.