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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[100mitsubishis]

[There's a witty retort there somewhere that would proposition Kavinsky was more of a lady and he can sleep as long as he damn well pleases. But whatever. He's definitely awake now, no longer half-dozed off. The part where he's half-baked remains, but surely his broodmate has already picked up on that.

It's good for her. It will keep him mellow and able to follow Sirius' instruction that he not upset their new 'family.']

( Okay, yeah, you win. I'm up. It's cool. )

[wille]

( That's what I like to hear. )

[ The words you win, that is. There's a certain death instinct in him that feels strangely familiar, and by consequence comforting despite the obvious dangers of liaising with someone who tumbles out of a car crash laughing like it's the funniest joke on the planet. The devil you know. ]

( It's about time we get to know each other, don't you think? If I didn't know better, I might think you're shy. )

[100mitsubishis]

['Shy' isn't a word anyone would use to describe Joseph Kavinsky, including himself. It's just a game, having the new kids come to him. Letting them know he's there by sending out pings on their radar and waiting until they catch up to him. That shows him who has the drive.

Seriously. Let's steal a car.]

( And I gotta be awake for that? Can't you just scan my brain? )

[wille]

[ Push and pull. But Misato has never had the patience to be the one to wait. ]

( You ever realized how your brain is like one of those indie Sundance films that make no sense without commentary? Cause it is. )

[100mitsubishis]

( Just mine or everyone's? )

[Everyone's, probably, but Kavinsky's is especially full of sparks hitting the ground fiendishly close to gasoline. Tongues over skin. Flash. Cars taking turns too fast, hitting the sidewalk, almost a mailbox.]

[wille]

( Yours especially. )

[ She basks in the barrage of scenes, taking comfort in how bad things can get without real consequences. You can't die in a dream car crash or can you? ]

( What's your favorite ride? )

[100mitsubishis]

[He wouldn't know. He's never tried.]

( Mitsubishi Evo. What's yours? )

[It's called the Lancer or something or maybe that was the new model he was waiting to come out. The name fits, regardless, because he always felt a bit like he was jousting.]

[wille]

( Renault Alpine A110 would be my dream girl, but ah, you end up settling for the girl next door right? I have an A310 instead. )

[ Misato doesn't race. Driving is more like, well, meditation. It's calming to go, go, go, without actually getting somewhere. ]

( Why do you drive? )

[100mitsubishis]

[A loaded question. It isn't like either of his parents raced and got him into it. If they did, he might've been repelled, ended up preferring a scooter or rollerblading for the inept irony. Cars just became a thing. Symbolism of freedom, because with your hands on the wheel, where couldn't you go? And he could pour money into it, all of daddy's savings, and then he didn't have to pour money into it because he could make the cars himself.]

( Why do you fuck? You gotta? It feels good? )

[wille]

[ There's a recoil, like a hand slapped out of the way. It smarts. She fucks to distract herself from existential loneliness, to soil her own image in the eyes of her late father, to be closer to her late father, to run away from him. But driving is removed from all that. It's pure and simple. ]

( Some rides are better than sex, that's true. )

[ It's not. It's not true. But she can play along. ]

( You ever tried a Ferrari? A 348 Spider with the hood down. Goddamn. )

[100mitsubishis]

[Driving can do the same thing. The loneliness? Gone, if you have someone in the passenger seat hazily singing your praises. Late father's eyes? Imagine them splattered by the quick turn of a wheel. It can be pure and animal, or it can be a lifestyle.

Both is also an option. Both is always an option.

For Kavinsky, it's been true, but he doesn't need them to agree on everything.]

( Ferrari. Benz. Been wanting to try this one Camaro. I like the hood up. )

[Harder for the cops to ID him, not that it fucking matters. He's Joseph Kavinsky.]

( Do you want one? )

[wille]

[ His mind reads wild and chaotic to her, dangerous and overwhelming, but Kavinsky? Kavinsky himself somehow seems calm, the eye of the storm, the laughing conductor of a symphony of disorder.

There's something like a laugh rippling through the link, dry and subdued. ]

( Anyone ever told you not to propose on the first date? I don't even know what to call you. )

[100mitsubishis]

( Kavinsky. )

[He says it because Kavinsky is his name. He never identified that well with Joseph, which sounds a bit religious or scholarly compared to the wild child he turned out to be. Kavinsky sums everything up in one bittersweet package.

Already, he's decided he likes this woman he shares a hive with. Clever. An auto-enthusiast. She hasn't brushed off his questions, even if they're sidestepped.]

( I can get you the Spider. On the house. )

[wille]

[ Last names have their purposes. To signal a legacy, to keep others at an arm's length, to remember. But she gives him her first name instead because she is herself, not only her father's daughter. ]

( Misato. )

[ His offer is met with amusement. To her, he's like a pet bringing back tribute, asked for or not. ]

( Am I gonna regret taking that offer? )

[100mitsubishis]

[Her first name? How touching. He'll remember it. Misato. Misato. Part of his non-consensual family, but she came to him and she brought up one of his favorite topics. She's making the cut. Good for her.]

( Nah, but you're gonna have to wait until we're planetside. Unless you want to try driving it around in here. )

[wille]

[ Witness: one pathetically lonely person finding another pathetically lonely person. Even jagged, misshapen pieces find some way to match up somehow. ]

( It will be worth the wait, I'm sure. Do I wanna know how you'll get your hands on one or is ignorance bliss? )

[100mitsubishis]

( I'll make it for you. What do you want on the plates? )

[Everyone needs a vanity plate. What's the point of being an unrecognizable hodgepodge of numbers and letters?]

[wille]

[ Hang on-- ]

( What do you mean "make it"? From scratch? )

[100mitsubishis]

( Uh yeah. That's what 'make it' means. )

[Technically, he'll be bringing it back from dreamland with him fully formed.]

[wille]

[ Her head hurts. Kids these days. ]

( Wow, okay. Look, I've never had anyone buy me a car let alone make one for me. So, uhh, this is a bit new to me. )

[ It's a bit much too. A bit too soon. A bit scary, if she's being honest. ]

[100mitsubishis]

[He senses her trepidation, feels it as his own, then quickly lets it spill off of him because it's a foreign sensation and he doesn't like it.

Anyway, he laughs. At her, shifting into with her-- at least, it will be. Once he explains the joke.]

( Wow, okay. It's a magic power thing. I'll make it when I'm asleep. No horsehead in your bed, babe, I promise. )

[wille]

[ If he is an absolute absence of fear, then she must be the accumulation of everything that frightens her, all boxed in, kept as close as one keeps one's enemies. Magic power thing. ]

( Alright. Make it FCUKING. )

[100mitsubishis]

( I'll write it in my diary. )