[Kavinsky just grins. Sounds exactly like his jam. The thought of throwing another bash makes his blood thrum.]
Used to throw parties like that a lot back home. I'm your guy.
could reuse the old venue, that might get unwanted attention tho. could find somewhere new, fill it to the brim. i'm down - you wanna meet and talk about this when the sun is up?
[ on the one hand, michael thinks that more attention is okay - he's got some nasty tricks he can pull on anyone who gets in the way of his good time - but. ]
i guess i don't want to copy your ideas. somewhere new would be better. we can meet up later. i mean, i'm not afraid of going out at night, but i'm the one calling you out, so. whatever you want. where do you wanna meet?
sure... but your party might have sucked ass, for all i know. maybe i only heard good things because everyone was too coked up to see the river of shit they were standing in. no offense. maybe it was great. i wasn't here yet, so. couldn't say.
i don't have a dom. i have until the end of june to get one. go to sleep. i'll track you down in the morning. thanks again.
Kavinsky wakes up and he's pretty sure the whole conversation wasn't a dream; a quick check of his phone confirms that. He shoots the guy another text with the name of a coffee place in the Down. Might as well make it easy, right? Besides, party planning like this needs some ambiance and the Down has it.
Tell me what you like. i'll have something waiting for you when you get here.
He's pretty sure he's got a profile pic or something, but just in case, Kavinsky sends a selfie from in front of the cafe before he goes in.
[ Michael doesn't sleep. By all accounts, when he rocks up at the cafe he's directed to wearing tattered layers and dragging his feet, he should look exhausted. He doesn't - there might be some shadows under his eyes and a bit of colour drained from his face, but between that and the tousled, unbrushed curls, it honestly just adds to his natural good looks.
He answers Kavinsky's message on the way over - do they have milkshakes? - but doesn't reply to any follow up messages. He just heads over, finds Kavinsky sitting in the cafe, and drops pretty heavily in the seat opposite him. He doesn't say hello, just grabs whatever drink K ordered for him and takes a swig. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve before settling in. ]
Okay - party planning. [ A pause. He doesn't think he needs to introduce himself, but. He points at himself, meeting Kavinsky's eyes. ]
Kavinsky almost laughs - he definitely grins - but he manages to restrain himself enough to keep it at that. This guy looks like Adam fucking Parrish but absolutely is not him. The demeanor, the movement, is all wrong. He slides a sort of milkshake across the table: blended coffee drink is close enough, right?]
Kavinsky. Party planning. There's a lot of places down here that'll work, I think. Abandoned buildings are best. Aesthetic and no one gives a fuck.
[ This drink tastes like shit, actually. When Michael wiped his mouth on his sleeve a second ago, he managed to hide the distaste pretty well, but when he takes another sip to see if it's better on re-entry, it's somehow even worse. Michael pushes the cup as far away from him as he can, completely unashamed about looking ungrateful. Wanted a milkshake, you prick. ]
I mean, I don't care about aesthetic.
[ Shit's getting serious now, though. Michael inches forward to the edge of his seat, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in close. ]
I care about fucking people up. I care about half a dozen people getting so completely, totally wrecked at this party, they permanently forget they ever went. I want it to be chaotic. Drugs, drinks, fights, fucking - I want to feel like I could die.
[ He needs to start figuring out his purpose here. ]
[No skin off his nose if Michael doesn't like it. The brat face he pulls reminds him of Skov, though, and it's really fucking weird to see a Skov expression on Adam's face. He listens to the enthusiastic little wish list for the party and Kavinsky can't help but smirk. It sounds like one of his substance parties. He got up to some good shit in Henrietta.]
Only half a dozen? [He grins and sits back with his drink.] Yeah, I can help make all that happen.
[ Michael - beams, then. It's warm and it's bright and it's fucking loving. He looks at Kavinsky like he's the most beautiful, sunny, perfect son of a bitch in the whole wide world, like he's the absolute center of everything for Michael. He looks at him like he's in love. ]
Okay. Okay, cool.
[ He drums his fingers on the table. Scooches in a little closer. He drops his voice, acts conspiratorially, and he looks less like he's trying not to be overheard and more like he's just having fun looking mischievous. ]
You know you're going to have to prove it, right? I'm acting on a lot of faith and very little evidence.
[ A video of his last party. Some free samples of what he can provide. Anything. ]
[Kavinsky pulls out his phone and scrolls through a few things. He sets it on the table to play a scene from the last party: strobing lights, thudding music, bodies everywhere enjoying themselves. The camera pans higher, showing fireworks going off indoors.]
Had tables full of whatever people wanted. Drugs, booze, my own special blends. Heard a rumor at least one person OD'd but I never found any bodies, so if they did, they didn't die.
[He pulls Michael's abandoned drink closer and proceeds to drink it.]
[ This looks... good. Better than Michael expected. He wets his lips, turns up the volume, gets Kavinsky's phone loud enough to earn a few dirty looks. He ignores this prick drinking his drink, even though it annoys him, and reacts to a possible death with lazy, uninterested sarcasm. ]
Maybe LIES has a system in place for death. Discrete corpse removal. Instant incineration.
[ Being immediately turned to ash by a big purple man with snappy fingers. Something. Now - they did talk about payment, or at least Michael briefly offered it, but he's an uncontracted submissive with no job, so his prospects are pretty fucking scarce. He pauses the video, curls his hand beneath his chin, and rests against the back of it. ]
Name your price for all your help.
[ So he can, like, Pick pockets at the party, or something. Go gravedigging. ]
Given the mood they seem to be going for in the Down, you'd think they'd just leave a few around for aesthetic.
[Kavinsky considers his price. He still can't get over how much this guy looks like Adam. He's a sub, so he's not going to have much in the way of income or resources. Most of his clients in the Down who are unattached only have a few ways to compensate him for his time and his energy.]
I take cash, sexual favors, blackmail. Sometimes future favors, but only if I know you're good for it.
[ Michael laughs, just lightly, all straight-teethed and pretty. Kavinsky's funny. Maybe he shouldn't be laughing about corpses in the streets, though - probably not a good look.
Thankfully, it's not too long before his smile's gone. Kavinsky talks about cash, which is out of the question - and blackmail, which would be fine, if Michael was even slightly intimidated by the prospect of his secrets getting out. He drops his hands to his elbows, rubbing his arms for warmth, then lightly shakes his head. Fucking typical. ]
Okay. [ He raises his eyebrows, looking Kavinsky over. He's bored, but not unwilling. ] Okay. Sure. Here? Now? You want me to get on my knees under the table and drain you dry, or is this more of an "I'll call you when I need a hole to fuck or a dick to ride" sort of situation?
I mean as nice as the idea of you getting under the table is, not here. Not now. I'll hit you up when it's time to take care of that. Maybe at your rager.
[Kavinsky grins and shakes his head. Yeah he'd actually be pretty into a public blow job, but right now he's got some shit on his mind that he isn't sure is conducive to maintaining a boner in public. Still, seeing this different, monstrous Adam is-- tempting. He wants to savor this shit when it happens.
He pulls out a little case: it looks like it might be for business cards or something, but nestled inside are a few pills in different colors.]
Some of my other wares, if you're curious about what I've got.
[ Hey, if this dude isn't gonna make him put out here and now, that's no skin off Michael's nose - just means he has the option of playing hard to get. There's space for him to get what he wants from Kavinsky and fucking bail, now. Space to tempt him into chasing after him and making him pay up, one way or another. Space to maybe fuck him over and give him nothing.
Michael watches Kavinsky bring out his samples, feeling weirdly like he's being offered cuts of meat at a butchery. He leans back in his seat and raps his knuckles on the table. Despite everything they've been talking about, he has very fucking little experience with actually getting high, and he doesn't want Kavinsky to know it by watching him throw back a pill for the first time and acting like a pussy that's never even smoked weed. So. He just keeps talking, acting tough. ]
I want it all. Everything. I want every substance you can get a hold of, every chemical, every fucking pill, every fucking powder, at this party. I want you to spike the food, lace the drinks. I don't want you to think of these as your wares, I want you to think of them as your artillery.
[The words sink in and Kavinsky shivers. God, this kid doesn't even fucking know, but that's okay. He'll find out. Everything Kavinsky has is his arsenal: his body, his drugs, his dreams. Everything is weaponized. He can't help the wicked grin that curves his mouth as he looks at the table between them.]
You've got it.
[It's that easy. He looks up, watching Michael with his samples and it occurs to him that maybe Michael has no idea what he's looking at. His look turns wolfish.]
[ Michael is a lot of things. Brilliant, seductive. Unfathomably charismatic. The one thing he isn't is a liar.
He's really fucking good at deflecting, but he's also kind of thrown by the question. There's a flicker of surprise on his face, a twitch to the corner of his lips, and then he just - leans in, keeping his voice mellow and smooth. ]
[Kavinsky's dark eyes get more intent when he sees that brief surprise. The way Michael leans in doesn't actually save him - if anything, it tells Kav all he needs to know.]
Yeah, I do.
[Michael wouldn't be the first guy to show up in front of him asking for something without really knowing what it was or what it'd do. Wanting to try it or wanting to use it on someone else - Kavinsky never fucking cared. But he knows what inexperience looks like, no matter how smooth a talker is on the other side of it.]
[ Another thing about Michael - he fucking loves to be seen. Kavinsky sees him. Just a little bit. Sees through him. Blood rushes through Michael's body, a mixture of anger and genuine, sudden arousal. He leans in even closer, drops his voice, makes it sound threatening. ]
I've experienced highs that you could never understand. The things I've done - the things I've felt - you couldn't dream of any of it.
[ But - maybe talking about the black mass, and about Hawthorne, would only get him in trouble. Michael darts his tongue between his lips, gets them wet. He looks at Kavinsky, right in the eye, all defensive and challenging. He's worried that if he just sounds like some kid who doesn't know what he's doing, Kavinsky won't commit to helping him. So. He asks. ]
I don't know about that. I can dream a lot of things.
[The pills for a start. The case they came in. So much more. Kavinsky doesn't miss the threat in Michael's voice but he also blows right past it. He's not the first person to threaten him, either, and that one's practically veiled. He snorts a laugh.]
[ Michael doubts Kavinsky. Kavinsky doubts him back. There's balance, there. Michael likes balance.
Kavinsky reassures him, in any case, and that's all Michael needs. He stares up at him for a few seconds longer, then takes a long, long, long breath, evening his shoulders out. He sits back, slumped down in his seat. Invested. Good. Michael likes investment, too. Obligingly, he nods to the pills in front of Kavinsky. ]
Tell me... about those. Tell me what it feels like.
Well, pill number one will make you grow taller...
[He grins and he wonders if Michael would even get some Alice in Wonderland shit. So Kavinsky knocks it off and pulls his other drink closer.]
I'm fucking with you. So that first one is just molly, MDMA. Uhm, that second one is one I made up, it's got no discernible side-effects except one: it'll lower your inhibitions a fuckton. Like, you can be on it and not even notice, everything feels rational but it's not. The last one puts you kinda into a waking dream, you won't remember shit when that wears off.
[ Michael gets it - his grandmother read him that story before bed, once - but he's also, apparently, sort of a gullible fucking idiot, because his eyes widen in surprise. He frowns, looking at the first pill, and... pretends like he's not surprised again, when Kavinsky tells him he's fucking with him.
Jesus, okay. MDMA, fine, he gets it. Lowered inhibitions mean nothing to him, given that he has next to none in the first place, and he looks bored, rather than impressed. A waking dream, though. That's interesting.
Michael takes the last pill out of its case, holding it to the table with his index finger. Hm. ]
You could do some damage with this one. Make people do whatever you want.
[ Not that he needs help with that, either, but. He's obviously intrigued by Kavinsky's choice to have this. ]
That's the point of the last two. Someone that has no inhibitions but thinks they do will do a lot of things on just suggestion. So will someone in a dream.
[He shrugs one shoulder, remembering the party and how delicious it was to see people in varying states of awareness. Maybe Michael isn't impressed by lowering his own inhibitions, but these are meant to be deployed. Kavinsky doesn't care if he takes them himself or tests them on other people.]
I can do damage with a lot of things. If you want drugs that do something specific, or special, just tell me what you want it to do and I'll make it happen.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Used to throw parties like that a lot back home. I'm your guy.
could reuse the old venue, that might get unwanted attention tho. could find somewhere new, fill it to the brim. i'm down - you wanna meet and talk about this when the sun is up?
no subject
[ on the one hand, michael thinks that more attention is okay - he's got some nasty tricks he can pull on anyone who gets in the way of his good time - but. ]
i guess i don't want to copy your ideas. somewhere new would be better.
we can meet up later. i mean, i'm not afraid of going out at night, but i'm the one calling you out, so.
whatever you want.
where do you wanna meet?
no subject
grab coffee in a few hours? need to do some real sleep.
fuck, right, you're a sub. you got a dom yet?
no subject
maybe i only heard good things because everyone was too coked up to see the river of shit they were standing in.
no offense. maybe it was great. i wasn't here yet, so. couldn't say.
i don't have a dom. i have until the end of june to get one.
go to sleep. i'll track you down in the morning.
thanks again.
no subject
Tell me what you like. i'll have something waiting for you when you get here.
He's pretty sure he's got a profile pic or something, but just in case, Kavinsky sends a selfie from in front of the cafe before he goes in.
no subject
He answers Kavinsky's message on the way over - do they have milkshakes? - but doesn't reply to any follow up messages. He just heads over, finds Kavinsky sitting in the cafe, and drops pretty heavily in the seat opposite him. He doesn't say hello, just grabs whatever drink K ordered for him and takes a swig. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve before settling in. ]
Okay - party planning. [ A pause. He doesn't think he needs to introduce himself, but. He points at himself, meeting Kavinsky's eyes. ]
Michael.
no subject
Kavinsky almost laughs - he definitely grins - but he manages to restrain himself enough to keep it at that. This guy looks like Adam fucking Parrish but absolutely is not him. The demeanor, the movement, is all wrong. He slides a sort of milkshake across the table: blended coffee drink is close enough, right?]
Kavinsky. Party planning. There's a lot of places down here that'll work, I think. Abandoned buildings are best. Aesthetic and no one gives a fuck.
no subject
I mean, I don't care about aesthetic.
[ Shit's getting serious now, though. Michael inches forward to the edge of his seat, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in close. ]
I care about fucking people up. I care about half a dozen people getting so completely, totally wrecked at this party, they permanently forget they ever went. I want it to be chaotic. Drugs, drinks, fights, fucking - I want to feel like I could die.
[ He needs to start figuring out his purpose here. ]
Can you help me with that?
no subject
Only half a dozen? [He grins and sits back with his drink.] Yeah, I can help make all that happen.
no subject
Okay. Okay, cool.
[ He drums his fingers on the table. Scooches in a little closer. He drops his voice, acts conspiratorially, and he looks less like he's trying not to be overheard and more like he's just having fun looking mischievous. ]
You know you're going to have to prove it, right? I'm acting on a lot of faith and very little evidence.
[ A video of his last party. Some free samples of what he can provide. Anything. ]
no subject
Had tables full of whatever people wanted. Drugs, booze, my own special blends. Heard a rumor at least one person OD'd but I never found any bodies, so if they did, they didn't die.
[He pulls Michael's abandoned drink closer and proceeds to drink it.]
no subject
Maybe LIES has a system in place for death. Discrete corpse removal. Instant incineration.
[ Being immediately turned to ash by a big purple man with snappy fingers. Something. Now - they did talk about payment, or at least Michael briefly offered it, but he's an uncontracted submissive with no job, so his prospects are pretty fucking scarce. He pauses the video, curls his hand beneath his chin, and rests against the back of it. ]
Name your price for all your help.
[ So he can, like, Pick pockets at the party, or something. Go gravedigging. ]
no subject
[Kavinsky considers his price. He still can't get over how much this guy looks like Adam. He's a sub, so he's not going to have much in the way of income or resources. Most of his clients in the Down who are unattached only have a few ways to compensate him for his time and his energy.]
I take cash, sexual favors, blackmail. Sometimes future favors, but only if I know you're good for it.
no subject
Thankfully, it's not too long before his smile's gone. Kavinsky talks about cash, which is out of the question - and blackmail, which would be fine, if Michael was even slightly intimidated by the prospect of his secrets getting out. He drops his hands to his elbows, rubbing his arms for warmth, then lightly shakes his head. Fucking typical. ]
Okay. [ He raises his eyebrows, looking Kavinsky over. He's bored, but not unwilling. ] Okay. Sure. Here? Now? You want me to get on my knees under the table and drain you dry, or is this more of an "I'll call you when I need a hole to fuck or a dick to ride" sort of situation?
no subject
[Kavinsky grins and shakes his head. Yeah he'd actually be pretty into a public blow job, but right now he's got some shit on his mind that he isn't sure is conducive to maintaining a boner in public. Still, seeing this different, monstrous Adam is-- tempting. He wants to savor this shit when it happens.
He pulls out a little case: it looks like it might be for business cards or something, but nestled inside are a few pills in different colors.]
Some of my other wares, if you're curious about what I've got.
no subject
Michael watches Kavinsky bring out his samples, feeling weirdly like he's being offered cuts of meat at a butchery. He leans back in his seat and raps his knuckles on the table. Despite everything they've been talking about, he has very fucking little experience with actually getting high, and he doesn't want Kavinsky to know it by watching him throw back a pill for the first time and acting like a pussy that's never even smoked weed. So. He just keeps talking, acting tough. ]
I want it all. Everything. I want every substance you can get a hold of, every chemical, every fucking pill, every fucking powder, at this party. I want you to spike the food, lace the drinks. I don't want you to think of these as your wares, I want you to think of them as your artillery.
no subject
You've got it.
[It's that easy. He looks up, watching Michael with his samples and it occurs to him that maybe Michael has no idea what he's looking at. His look turns wolfish.]
You ever roll before?
no subject
He's really fucking good at deflecting, but he's also kind of thrown by the question. There's a flicker of surprise on his face, a twitch to the corner of his lips, and then he just - leans in, keeping his voice mellow and smooth. ]
You think I'd ask for all this if I hadn't?
no subject
Yeah, I do.
[Michael wouldn't be the first guy to show up in front of him asking for something without really knowing what it was or what it'd do. Wanting to try it or wanting to use it on someone else - Kavinsky never fucking cared. But he knows what inexperience looks like, no matter how smooth a talker is on the other side of it.]
no subject
I've experienced highs that you could never understand. The things I've done - the things I've felt - you couldn't dream of any of it.
[ But - maybe talking about the black mass, and about Hawthorne, would only get him in trouble. Michael darts his tongue between his lips, gets them wet. He looks at Kavinsky, right in the eye, all defensive and challenging. He's worried that if he just sounds like some kid who doesn't know what he's doing, Kavinsky won't commit to helping him. So. He asks. ]
You going to back out?
no subject
[The pills for a start. The case they came in. So much more. Kavinsky doesn't miss the threat in Michael's voice but he also blows right past it. He's not the first person to threaten him, either, and that one's practically veiled. He snorts a laugh.]
Fuck no. I'm invested now.
no subject
Kavinsky reassures him, in any case, and that's all Michael needs. He stares up at him for a few seconds longer, then takes a long, long, long breath, evening his shoulders out. He sits back, slumped down in his seat. Invested. Good. Michael likes investment, too. Obligingly, he nods to the pills in front of Kavinsky. ]
Tell me... about those. Tell me what it feels like.
no subject
[He grins and he wonders if Michael would even get some Alice in Wonderland shit. So Kavinsky knocks it off and pulls his other drink closer.]
I'm fucking with you. So that first one is just molly, MDMA. Uhm, that second one is one I made up, it's got no discernible side-effects except one: it'll lower your inhibitions a fuckton. Like, you can be on it and not even notice, everything feels rational but it's not. The last one puts you kinda into a waking dream, you won't remember shit when that wears off.
no subject
Jesus, okay. MDMA, fine, he gets it. Lowered inhibitions mean nothing to him, given that he has next to none in the first place, and he looks bored, rather than impressed. A waking dream, though. That's interesting.
Michael takes the last pill out of its case, holding it to the table with his index finger. Hm. ]
You could do some damage with this one. Make people do whatever you want.
[ Not that he needs help with that, either, but. He's obviously intrigued by Kavinsky's choice to have this. ]
no subject
[He shrugs one shoulder, remembering the party and how delicious it was to see people in varying states of awareness. Maybe Michael isn't impressed by lowering his own inhibitions, but these are meant to be deployed. Kavinsky doesn't care if he takes them himself or tests them on other people.]
I can do damage with a lot of things. If you want drugs that do something specific, or special, just tell me what you want it to do and I'll make it happen.
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