mental link

[100mitsubishis]

DREAM there isn't anything else	THIEF get in get out
DYING a boring side effect	PARTY god that would be awesome

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

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[doggo]

[That one's easy. Zero hesitation:]

( Sure. )

[Flippant enough that if they were in normal conversation, face-to-face, words only, Kavinsky might question how earnest an agreement it is. Then again, he might not question it. He seems the sort who would take that at face value, press some advantage there.

And even if that weren't true of him, he will know, Sirius does mean it. Some things never change. Gryffindors, man.]

( I'll make you your own maze and you can do laps. Get lost for a few hours. )

[100mitsubishis]

[Sirius might be throwing that suggestion out there as a joke, but Kavinsky could have fun with a maze. Walk around, skirt the obvious pitfalls and enjoys the subtle ones that catch him by surprise. Made all the better if he isn't sober during the journey.

And if he has something to bring along. He doesn't like being alone.]

( How long do I have to wait? )

[doggo]

[Interest catches his interest. So now, the quick catalog Sirius does of his resources will feel like a shiver. Takes no time at all. This is old-school, this sort of distraction. Magic he's not had to use in ages. Pranks. Summer holiday. The Potter house, James hanging upside down off a bed with his glasses fallen off his face. You're a genius, Padfoot.]

( Two hours. )

[A patch of swamp. Topiary. Tall walls of green. Hot sun, the sort that bakes the part in your hair.]

( Know where the pool is? )

[100mitsubishis]

[Does he want to know about Kavinsky's summers? Boom and the hiss of balloons losing helium. Body shots and the crunch of gravel under tires. By the time he was fifteen, he had people traveling *miles* to come see how he played his games. He was never alone, but there was no one in his head.

Not unless he had to make them there. But after that, he could set them free.]

( Who do you think I am? )

[Yeah, dude, he knows where the motherfucking pool is. And two hours is a lot to ask from him, but he'll do his best not to prod at Sirius too much.]

[doggo]

( Not a swimmer. )

[The sizzle of those summer memories will linger with Sirius, catching on the toothy bits of his own memory, cloth against rough stone. Both heady and inspirational.]

( Two hours. Don't be late. )

[And don't be impatient, either. There's skill in this, real craft. Bending hallways, conjuring green in places it shouldn't be. Not as complicated as he'd like, not when he hasn't got the room, or his own wand. But better than nothing.]

[100mitsubishis]

[Then he knows him well. Kavinsky only likes large bodies of water if he's going to find someone naked cannonballing into them. Better yet if that person is him, head floating outside of his body until he makes impact with the surface and sinks in.

Down.

Two hours is a lot of time to not nudge his brain against Sirius'. Curiosity festers and blooms, a quick growing moss that wants to coat him utterly.

He makes it seventy-one minutes.]

( C'mon. )