[She's fun like a hacksaw against a man's forearm. There must be a world of things she wants, and Kavinsky decides it has less to do with her wanting it from him, than from ghosts she's decided to hate. Bitterness is the worst addiction. Kavinsky doesn't subscribe to it; instead of feeding his hunger, it would only grow that gnawing sensation to an unbearable peak.]
'Kay.
[He lets go of the tree and starts a lazy forward march.]
no subject
'Kay.
[He lets go of the tree and starts a lazy forward march.]