[He moves like ichor. Sap-slow, because today is a day for edible treats that make the world crawl around him. Flat on his back, possibly in a public area, Kavinsky couldn't care less who trips over him. He might even grab for their ankles, worrisome as a cat stepping between its master's feet.]
no subject
( Fuck no. )
[But he misses him and he hates that feeling.]