[When the real fuck-up fucks up, Kavinsky will be on the sidelines sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth. Amateurs, he'll announce over the mental airwaves. But it will signal a release of his shackles; every grand reveal needs its fireworks. Until then, he's a slave to the mission rules. The invisible weight settles around his throat and wrists the same as it always does.
Lay low, be good, play nice, wear stifling robes and bend over when you're told to. The last mission spoiled him rotten.
He'd gotten to blow up a jail.
Rhan returns with The Robe and Kavinsky's squinting as he takes it all in.]
How'd you know I almost applied to clown college? Shit. How do I ever repay you for the gift?
[The Robe looks like a circus tent, both in size and color. Kavinsky's only known method of altering anything is to destroy it, but he's not sure where to begin on such a masterpiece.]
no subject
Lay low, be good, play nice, wear stifling robes and bend over when you're told to. The last mission spoiled him rotten.
He'd gotten to blow up a jail.
Rhan returns with The Robe and Kavinsky's squinting as he takes it all in.]
How'd you know I almost applied to clown college? Shit. How do I ever repay you for the gift?
[The Robe looks like a circus tent, both in size and color. Kavinsky's only known method of altering anything is to destroy it, but he's not sure where to begin on such a masterpiece.]
Love me a challenge.