[Sirius doesn't need to cut him off so swiftly; they all have that guy. In apology, Kavinsky could let Lynch's face flash, beautiful and sharp all about every feature. He might weave the memory of him wanting everything from Ronan in a feverish hungry that was never sated. All he had was the taste on his tongue and then nothing as he was left behind, vowing that Ronan would remember him like a brand pressed into his eyeball until it became seared, white goop. But Kavinsky doesn't share Ronan, because he only thinks of him in response to Peter being violently snatched away from his mind. Then it's more Sirius, it's more the ever sweet, dark passage from wake to sleep.

Kavinsky steps closer. Magic. The stick is a wand. The man before him wants to know him and Kavinsky's never needed to be unknowable, he simply was.]

Where'd you learn to talk? Mom and dad actually do it for you, or you paid enough attention to how things work you figured out how to do what you needed to get by?