[Duplicity] Inbox

[likeathief]

VOICE	TEXT	ACTION
Kavinsky You know what to do. <

Comments

[confiscated]

nothing insane, just not some shit i can get here.

books, some vinyl. i have a question though, about stuff
what can't you bring here?
like if i asked for something from, say, my room back home
you can't bring that back can you?

[likeathief]

i mean if you can describe it well enough or draw it or something i can make it happen

is this stuff for you or someone else?

[confiscated]

for me.

i might lend the books to someone but i just miss having shit i'm familiar with
i can give you a list of specific records and books. but i was just wondering about other things
like a photo of my sister and me
or, of course alternatively just sticking to things like a switchblade

[likeathief]

yeah, i can do it. not sure i can do it all in one night, but yeah. just gimme titles and stuff and uhm
when you want the picture, you gotta talk me through it. like before i go under.

[confiscated]

yeah, cool. i can do that and it's not really in any rush
i'm still reading through the other books, which've been great

what do you want in return? gimme a ballpark here

[likeathief]

You're my sub, Tate. i'm supposed to provide you with stuff you need or want.

[confiscated]

alright.

[He's not used to this. Not really.]

ur not at risk of anything when doing this though, are you
like. whatever you do, you're ok?

[likeathief]

dying's a side effect

you worried about me, sweetheart?

[confiscated]

u are my meal ticket
what's the risk?

you can die just taking a spill down a set of stairs
fluke's a fluke. but how dangerous is your shit?

[likeathief]

i've been doing it since i was a kid and i'm still here

i'm good at this shit, ok?

[Maybe he should warn Tate about the night horrors, but those don't happen that often anymore. He can handle it.]

[confiscated]

you've done it that long?
that's kind of cool.

guess i'll trust you
just don't let me down, ok
you know. by dying. like a bitch.

[likeathief]

kinda have to if you want your shit right?

you can keep watch if you want. pretty boring but you can hit my chest or whatever and bring me back.

[confiscated]

yeah, i'll do that.
do all of that
(what do u even call it?)
do it when i'm around ok
i don't wanna come home 2 ur corpse on the good bedding

[likeathief]

you gonna be around tonight?

i can try to get some stuff quick, the books and whatever. picture from you room might take real sleep.

[confiscated]

yeah. i'll be around.
if we order in chinese, i'll stay around too

[CASUAL HINTS BUT,, Y'KNOW]

around six?

[likeathief]

deal - your usual or you want something else?

[confiscated]

usual's good.
extra fortune cookies though
i like the taste of them from that one place.

[likeathief]

see u @ 6

Kavinsky manages to remember to put the order in so that it will arrive about on time. He also makes sure to be lucid enough to answer the door and pay when the food arrives.

He misses the stupid bird and the noises she'd make when people came to the door.

He's unloading boxes of food onto the kitchen counter when he hears the door open again and he moves to get a better view to make sure it's Tate.

[confiscated]

Tate's on time, give or take, sliding inside with the sound of his keys set down by the door while he shrugs off his jacket. He's hungry for a change, which is probably a good thing - coke binges have shaved him down to just shy of being gaunt. He catches sight of Kavinsky and nods, rolling up his sleeve as he slides into the kitchen to help sort out the boxes, met with the nice scent of sweet and sour pork. Yep, definitely hungry.

"Hey," he says, reaching for a fortune cookie but sticking close to Kavinsky. He's pulling off the wrapper and taking a bite, pulling the slip of paper out from between his teeth and crunching down. Only then, mouth full, does he slip in to peck at Kavinsky's mouth. Almost, you know, like he realizes he should do something in greeting. He has, after all, had the gall to ask for a bunch of new shit. He needs to seem grateful, and not just think with his albeit hungry gut.

"I'm fucking starving." He adds on, as if to explain himself crunching down the rest of his cookie.

[likeathief]

Kavinsky watches Tate attack a cookie - there's literally a bag that's full of them. He's weirdly pleased to see that he's hungry, to hear that he is. Maybe it's the Slav in him. The kiss, sort of an afterthought, made him smirk.

"Eat up, man. There's a fuckton of cookies."

He leans on the counter as he picks up a box and a set of chopsticks. Lemongrass garlic pork.

"So what kind of albums am I getting you?"

[confiscated]

Tate's eating a second cookie when he's asked the question, so he drops the second slip of paper next to the first on the counter. Then he reaches forward to nudge at Kavinsky's elbow when he's got a piece of pork in his chopsticks, leaning forward with his lips parted - being a good leech for the first bite. Feed him, plebe.

"Classics? Nirvana, Depeche Mode, Pearl Jam and Soundgarden. I have a.. a list." He says, chewing on his mouthful of cookie (and hopefully pork,) before digging into his back pocket. A crumpled and folded sheet of lined paper has a list of early 90s and late 80s punk, alt and grunge bands on it on one side. Books on the other.

"There's some authors, some book titles I remember... anything off it's cool." He shrugs. "No pressure."

[likeathief]

Kavinsky can't help the little smirk that quirks his mouth as Tate leans in with an open mouth. He's intent as he watches, making eye contact as soon as Tate looks up and holding it as he puts the piece of work into his mouth.

"Good shit," he says of the bands. He knows all of them, it won't be hard to get what he wants - to get what Tate wants. He accepts the piece of paper, scanning the titles.

"No pressure?" he laughs and rolls his eyes. "Hopefully I don't die trying to get you some Kurt Cobain."

[confiscated]

"Gotta admit, it'd be on point with the aesthetic." He says with a snort, abandoning the cookies to find something more substantial in another of the boxes. He's not exactly the greatest with a pair of chopsticks so he uses a fork, but digs into a box of noodles. What's more 90s grunge than dying young?

"So what shit did you do today?"

[likeathief]

"Supply run," he answers, absently poking around at his food. "Some custom shit and some regulars to keep stocked up."

He doesn't talk about following Ronan or anyone else in Gansey's gang. He doesn't talk about keeping a passing eye on Reggie Mantle or Derek Hale. He eats more of his pork.

"Made some deliveries, slept a bunch." Really glamorous. Kavinsky misses the adrenaline spikes he had back in Henrietta. He needs his fucking car. Maybe he'll get one for Reggie, too, just to have someone to play with.

Maybe he'll dream one for Ronan and just leave it for him.

[confiscated]

Tate makes a thoughtful noise, eating another mouthful of noodles before leaving his container on the edge of the counter. He turns to the fridge, opening it to survey his options; he nods his head when reaching for a beer, silently asking if Kavinsky wants him to pull one for him too.

"Sounds like an eventful fucking day," he says, one-handedly cracking open his beer and sipping a bit of overflow. "I wanted to get high earlier but didn't, so that's part of my plans for tonight. When isn't it, though."