station72 | you wanted someone to hurt you [open]

CHARACTERS: Kavinsky & anyone
WHERE: The Station; Circle Gardens
WHEN: DAY :010.
SUMMARY: Elsewhere, the station turns. Here, Kavinsky gets high.
WARNINGS: Drugs. So many drugs. May update if things get... worse.

[The Circle Gardens are as close as Kavinsky can get to a clearing in a forest, so he's found himself a spot of empty grass to sit on during another day on the good ol' station. It hasn't been that long since he was stripped from planet Earth, but he spent so much of the last few years in a drug haze that all of it-- this moment, and the ones preceding it-- could reasonably be a dream. From dust mote to whistling breeze that isn't a breeze, it's him, whistling. All you have to do is pucker your lips and blow and know exactly where to put your tongue.

Speaking of his tongue, it's tingling. There was a tab on it not long ago. A small strip of an acid hybrid of his favorite make, namely his own. Colors mash together, sometimes into violent neons that have no place amongst the greenery.

He's on a high tier of the garden. He's on a high tier of another variety. And he remembers back when someone kindly shared their moonshine with him.

There's that pied piper voice, temptation on a stick.]

( Wanna come over? )

[A mental call with no set destination. It zigzags, pingpongs, hits then bounces and keeps on coming. Anyone could come and visit with him. He has a little bit of everything (with all his free time, he's been sleeping, creating, God-like).

Forever ago, on a balcony, a witch told him not to fuck around with this stuff so much. He'd affect all of them.

The problem with that warning is it didn't do a thing to turn Kavinsky's path.]

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[She leans back and once she's at a sixty degree angle, Kavinsky claps a hand on her shoulder. He shoves, pushing her to lose her balance and end up flat on her back by his hip. Once he's sure she has (or that she's too stable for him to have his way), he'll follow suit, laying so that his legs continue to hang out in open air.]

Relax. Breathe in-- count to, like, eight. Hold. Then out. Then say whatever you wanna say.

[ She's a bit too buzzed up to resist and she goes back, flopping onto her back. She blinks up at the sky lazily, trying to get herself back into focus. It's not that easy, though. Instead, she follows his instructions. Breathe in, two, three, four-

And then out. ]

I feel... light and heavy at the same time.

Yeah? Where?

[He lifts his hand, fingers spread, and shoves it up into the empty space between them. Being in space has a lot more downtime than he'd assumed; somehow he'd figured it would be a party that never ended. Lasers going pew pew, political intrigue, and the chance to smash a cruiser against a much larger warship.

This waiting is the pits.]

I don't know. Everywhere?

[ She sounds a bit dreamy. Drifting a little as she tries to focus on one spot on the ceiling or the branches or something, but it's hard because it all feels or seems out of focus. That's OK, though. Right? Right. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Her eyes snap to his fingers and blinks slowly. ]

How many fingers do you have again?

Twenty.

[Nothing but the best lies for baby doll. He lowers his hand so that its shadow lands upon her face.]

What about you? Where are you from?

Twenty. OK. That makes sense...

[ She blinks and frowns at the shadow, lifting a hand as if to swat it away. Why isn't that working? ]

I'm from Earth. North America. You know... not that far away.

[Earth. North America. She doesn't have an accent that would automatically distinguish what coast or midland she's from, but it's something. Kavinsky's turned onto his side, his hands no longer casting less than creative shadow puppets over the girl's nose.]

Oh yeah? Me, too.

[There are a few others he's met that either come from the US or a country on the same planet. She's said it isn't that far away, but it sounds like the sort of verbal security blanket that doesn't benefit anyone.]

[ Oh, good, she can concentrate on something besides the shadows being cast on her face. Bit hard, though, considering that she feels like the whole world is sort of accelerating away from her in a slow-motion blue-shift. ]

No kidding? Where?

[ If she sounds a bit distant it's because she feels a bit distant. ]

[Truth, this time, because he thought of every lie conceivable and none of them felt like they'd land. Oh, in this state, she'd believe him, but why falsely confess California when that coast didn't hold an ounce of hope for him?]

Jersey. Then Virginia. What about you?

[There are no locks of hair for him to move, he's just aiming to stroke fingers through her bangs for no good reason at all.]

California. Then kinda... all over the place.

[ It sounds vague as hell, because it is. She moved a lot. She blinks and rolls her head to the side so she can look at him as his fingers start to card through her hair. ]

What're you doing that for?

[Her parents, right? But he doesn't pry the little it would take to have the real answer out of her. Most people who move around, they all got the same story. Mommy or daddy had business and it had them moving hither and thither. Would force them right into orbit if there was work on a space station.

He shoves her hair back, then lets go. The bangs flop right back into place. Go figure.]

You have really never done this before. I felt like it. Go with the flow.

[ Pidge actually giggles as her bangs fall back into her face. That's kinda strange, isn't it? Gravity is a hell of a drug. Or maybe drugs are a hell of a drug. ]

Noooo, this is my first time. It's... fascinating. And kind of confusing. But it's not... bad. I guess.

[She's in the right mood, or at least on the cusp of it. Kavinsky has never had trouble controlling those close to his age. They all want the same things--to feel understood yet special. To soak up life in a series of thrills that remind them they're alive.]

( So. What do you do? )

( Tech stuff. I guess... I'm an engineer? Or a scientist? )

[ She sound super unsure, honestly. ]

( Oh yeah? I'm a chemist. )

[He means it in an extremely loose sense; his knit on the word has gaps the size of golfballs.]

you wanted someone to hurt you [open]

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