station72 | you are made for so much more than all of this

CHARACTERS: Sam & Kavinsky
WHERE: out and about on Waypoint
WHEN: Day 33/34ish
SUMMARY: hanging out and trying to be a good influence on K while K is totally a bad influence on him
WARNINGS: smoking, probably talk of drugs and violence

[ Sam's moving through the crowds on Waypoint with ease, intent on ducking into the nearest food place that smells like it'll hit the vague sense of something that he's craving, when he senses Kavinsky near by.

It's not exactly that Sam keeps track of where Kavinsky is or has an eye on his mental presence at all times, it's just... he's more aware of the particular feel of the symbiote bond that is Kavinsky, enough to know him immediately when they're in range of each other. Seems like it's like that with most of his brood, but then, Sam's the one who chose all of them.

Right now he reaches out, with the sensation of a warm breeze tugging at Kavinsky's hair and the impression of a playful smirk. ]

( What kind of trouble you getting up to? ) [ His tone is teasing, no recrimination. ]

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[Hating Sam Wilson would be the easy thing to do. After all, he's a meddling birdman asshole that can't leave well enough alone. Kavinsky has several reasons--right at the tip of his tongue--for wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and this particular hivemate. He doesn't want to deepen their relationship, he wants to maintain boundaries before the bleed does irreparable damage.

Go away, he ought to tell him. I'm busy.

He isn't, though.

And he doesn't hate Sam anymore than he hates Misato or he hated Sirius before her. Weirdos who swing the beam of their attention on him, then let it linger there.

Thank God for telepathy and avoidance.]

( Starting a cartel. You? )

[That is not a complete lie.]

[ Sam can't disagree there. He is a meddling birdman asshole that can't leave well enough alone, and there's a lot of reasons that he hasn't left Kavinsky alone. He'll even agree with him about maintaining boundaries, although his idea of boundaries is probably not the same as Kavinsky's.

There's a trickle of amusement at the kid's response. ]

( Selling snake oil to as many unsuspecting bystanders as I can. )

[ That is also not a complete lie. ]

( What's the poison? )

[They've had good times and bad times. Sam was one of the Hive members to find Kavinsky in the trash heap, and since then he's kept trying to save him. He's blatant when he can be, insidious when the moment isn't as intimate. Kavinsky is wary of him like he would be an enemy that means to do him harm.

Warier.

But he can't help the interest when Sam tells him he's doing something naughty.]

Edited 2017-05-09 03:35 (UTC)

[ Technically, Sam does mean to do him harm. The him that Kavinsky has built up around himself, the demons whose faces he wears once he thinks he's killed them. He hasn't. You don't ever kill your demons, you just learn how to take away their power over you.

But he isn't here for that, either. He's taking a break, and the scent of cloved smoke drifts over his side of the mental link. ]

( Whatever's cheap in the markets in the morning, usually. Doesn't matter what it is, it matters what they think it is. )

[ And that they don't see him using his ability, and attribute its effects to the health drink. ]

[Kavinsky's con began the moment they arrived at Waypoint, as if a trickster god had cut the boy from wholecloth for just such an excursion. All it took was an hour or two of research, and K was prepared to spread his personal line of dream-coke around like the plague. It was not a plan that arrived prepackaged with microwave instructions and a convenient end-game.

K birthed a diversion as a prototype to something more that didn't yet have a name or body.]

( Why? )

[He lobs a curveball with professional aim; since when has K ever busied himself with the "why" of things?]

[ It's hard to keep secrets from a hive mind, and Sam knows a little something of what Kavinsky'd gotten up to back on Concordia - it wouldn't surprise him at all to learn what he'd been getting up to here.

Something real damn close to what he'd done back home, Sam'd bet, the same ways to lose himself on a different world.

But the curveball's fair enough - it makes Sam raise his eyebrows a little. ]

( You asking just to ask or do you actually wanna know? )

( I wanna know. )

[He has the sensation that he should hide. Not physically, because Sam isn't even there, but within a labyrinth of thought barricades. Kavinsky pulls up some of his favorites, mostly drink and drug related. A few of sleek white vehicles with their speedometers seductively reading a number over one hundred.]

( I'm getting dirt on the people in the competition. There's a hell of a lot of gossip they're willing to spill when they think you're helping them, or are an uninterested party. )

[ He picks up on Kavinsky's attempt at hiding in his own mind, though, and hums thoughtfully. He's tempted to push, just because he can - but he doesn't, because when he can he'll always choose to respect the boundaries people put up when it comes to their minds. ]

( Are you working on shielding with anyone? )

[The truth, an entity that Kavinsky so rarely brushes up against, is on. Any shielding he's practiced is in the moment. A surge of no when he realizes he hasn't managed to scratch out all of his vulnerabilities.

He avoids the question entirely with a sidestep that's as obvious as a freight train rattling down a country rail.]

( No shit? Me, too. Trick is you have to drink with them. )

( That, too, but that's the easy part. I'm good at getting people drunk. ) [ There's a sensation of a grin, low and pleased, but he doesn't even hesitate before bringing it right back around to that question that Kavinsky avoided. ] ( You want to keep the world out, K, I can't help you there, but I can help you keep out the Nest. )

[Kavinsky understands in the way only someone who is also good at getting people wasted can. He used to make a kind of career out of it. Give it a few years, he might've found himself one of those guys who collect faces for parties. Fill up a room with the prettiest, most strung out kids he could find. The commission would be something worth creaming yourself over.

But that possible storyline contains multiple assumptions based around Kavinsky needing anyone to pay him.]

( Let me guess--for free. Out of the goodness of your heart. Weak, man. )

you are made for so much more than all of this

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