[the mirth that darts across nico's face makes kavinsky smile in answer. just a small one. grudgingly. mostly, the concession is that he gives a fuck if nico wants to make him feel better. it does little to quiet the howling pain in his skinny chest, but it gives him something else to listen to for a little while.] Got some in the kitchen.

And this trimmer thing I use on my pubes, but I can wash it first. Boiling water and all. [a tattooed hand goes up, knocks gently into nico's cheek. at least there's no tangible stickiness of snot or anything of the like that nico can feel. kavinsky starts to scoot off the bed, moving a little slowly, but at least-- moving. and not with the frenetic crazed cokehead mess the way he was before, either. this time, with purpose.]

You gonna wash your hair in the fucking shower, or I gotta work with that mess?