[kavinsky's eyes cut across the death godling's face again. retreat for a moment, before returning. it's a cowardly little dance, but the rest of him doesn't move. sitting stable on the edge of his bed. thinking, then not thinking much at all. thinking of vex, then only about nico, then only about the shape of his own hands on his lap.
there's no one he wants to change death for tonight. not even-- and this is a shitty thing, but not surprising— not even mark. maybe in a month or five, but until then there's no spare room for compassion in kavinsky's heart.]
Let me cut your hair.
[it's a sudden proposal with a lopsided smile that actually reaches kavinsky's eyes. hard to read, otherwise. if it's cruelty, it's not the loud and kidnapping kind that kavinsky's thrown about in the past. an old joke from their old homeworld, long ago.]
no subject
there's no one he wants to change death for tonight. not even-- and this is a shitty thing, but not surprising— not even mark. maybe in a month or five, but until then there's no spare room for compassion in kavinsky's heart.]
Let me cut your hair.
[it's a sudden proposal with a lopsided smile that actually reaches kavinsky's eyes. hard to read, otherwise. if it's cruelty, it's not the loud and kidnapping kind that kavinsky's thrown about in the past. an old joke from their old homeworld, long ago.]