[Kavinsky hadn't really been paying any attention to who else was on this expedition which felt rather like the world's worst fucking treasure hunt. The last crate he'd helped someone open had been significantly less docile, but he doesn't look that much worse for wear.
He'd caught a glimpse of a figure in his periphery, familiar, with the line of their shoulders sending a kick of longing like sparks through his chest. So he followed after him, needing to know for sure. He'd half expected it to just be some other buff guy with a shaved head, without Ronan's blue eyes or his soft touch under a forest of thorns.
But it's him, with some strange half-dog half-sheep creature in his arms, his voice gentle as he speaks to it. It makes K's eyes soften for a moment, thankfully hidden under white-rimmed sunglasses. He's still a bit awed at the whole idea of being here, at fucking-- space travel. This feels like it ought to be a dream, except that it's more hopeful than any dream Kavinsky has had in a while. And Ronan would be wearing far fewer clothes, and paying attention to him and not the weird creature in his arms.
He doesn't immediately answer the question. Instead he stands too close, rubs his fingers against the stubble of the other boy's hair. Always testing boundaries, what he was allowed without Ronan biting him for it. Not that he minded that either, most of the time.]
You planning on adopting it, Lynch?
[His mouth curls into a grin, amused and almost teasing, but not cruel as he could be. They'd been together. Things had been good. So he wasn't feeling as insecure as he could, wasn't feeling the need to lash out. But it was still admittedly an odd way to say hello.]
ii. repo train
He'd caught a glimpse of a figure in his periphery, familiar, with the line of their shoulders sending a kick of longing like sparks through his chest. So he followed after him, needing to know for sure. He'd half expected it to just be some other buff guy with a shaved head, without Ronan's blue eyes or his soft touch under a forest of thorns.
But it's him, with some strange half-dog half-sheep creature in his arms, his voice gentle as he speaks to it. It makes K's eyes soften for a moment, thankfully hidden under white-rimmed sunglasses. He's still a bit awed at the whole idea of being here, at fucking-- space travel. This feels like it ought to be a dream, except that it's more hopeful than any dream Kavinsky has had in a while. And Ronan would be wearing far fewer clothes, and paying attention to him and not the weird creature in his arms.
He doesn't immediately answer the question. Instead he stands too close, rubs his fingers against the stubble of the other boy's hair. Always testing boundaries, what he was allowed without Ronan biting him for it. Not that he minded that either, most of the time.]
You planning on adopting it, Lynch?
[His mouth curls into a grin, amused and almost teasing, but not cruel as he could be. They'd been together. Things had been good. So he wasn't feeling as insecure as he could, wasn't feeling the need to lash out. But it was still admittedly an odd way to say hello.]