[ 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.
I just want you to challenge yourself. Be creative. Come up with something fun. Make people bleed out their eyes or feel like their bones are melting into slurry. Make people cum for hours on end or whatever the fuck. I don't care.
[ Michael slips the pill he'd taken back into its case. ]
Thanks. If you're in, then - that's all I needed. I can head out, maybe text you some more details if I think of anything.
Where do I find you when I wanna cash in? Pretty sure this is gonna have to happen in installments for what you're asking for.
[He won't beat around the bush about it. It's a transaction, though he has ever intention of having fun with it. Doesn't matter if Michael does or not.]
I don't have a dom. I live in the fucking down. You can come to my dorm, but you're either gonna catch something, or someone's gonna watch through the holes in the wall.
[ He doesn't sound like he's particularly deterred about any of that, but. He's also getting up, snatching the case off the table and pocketing it, apparently taking Kavinsky's samples to try on his own back home. ]
You know how to reach me on the network. You can call me out whenever you want, and I'll come to you. Any time of day. No limits, no restrictions. Ask for anything you want from me and you'll get it - as long as the drugs keep coming in return.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.
no subject
[ Michael slips the pill he'd taken back into its case. ]
Thanks. If you're in, then - that's all I needed. I can head out, maybe text you some more details if I think of anything.
no subject
[He won't beat around the bush about it. It's a transaction, though he has ever intention of having fun with it. Doesn't matter if Michael does or not.]
no subject
[ He doesn't sound like he's particularly deterred about any of that, but. He's also getting up, snatching the case off the table and pocketing it, apparently taking Kavinsky's samples to try on his own back home. ]
You know how to reach me on the network. You can call me out whenever you want, and I'll come to you. Any time of day. No limits, no restrictions. Ask for anything you want from me and you'll get it - as long as the drugs keep coming in return.