[there's a shallow hole in kavinsky's hand, that fits the shape of ignacio's tooth. there's a distant part of him, neither human nor vampire but something that probably predates either, young and boyish and angry and greedy, that understands a little bit of what ignacio is talking about. he's wanted it before, badly enough that it made him crazy with single-minded, possessive despair. maybe what ignacio's talking about is actually a tiny fraction of that— he doesn't know.
but these days, he does know enough to be careful. and funnily enough, it's actually a lot easier to recognize old patterns and pitfalls when it's packaged in something new, like a sexy hispanic vampire lord, with a big warning label that reeks of unbelievable, ancient power. he stares up at the man for a long moment.]
What, [he says.] Are you fucking serious right now?
[historically he has been very bad at preserving the mood anyway, unless your mood was (literal) tire fires and cocaine.]
no subject
but these days, he does know enough to be careful. and funnily enough, it's actually a lot easier to recognize old patterns and pitfalls when it's packaged in something new, like a sexy hispanic vampire lord, with a big warning label that reeks of unbelievable, ancient power. he stares up at the man for a long moment.]
What, [he says.] Are you fucking serious right now?
[historically he has been very bad at preserving the mood anyway, unless your mood was (literal) tire fires and cocaine.]