Why the fuck not? Check it. [he makes a vague motion with his hands in the air that could mean anything. that mean absolutely nothing at all. his eyes move restlessly across the fabric ceiling again, then back to adam.

the funny thing is, that the next violently awful move he makes always feels like it could be the one. he studies the poor boy, assessing. if he was less high, he'd probably be able to remember some useful detail about the way he was with gansey, or the classes he took, the rumors about his family. but right now, it's all a vague tangle indivisible from kavinsky's own prejudiced assumptions about fucking poor boys.] He was a lying slut.

And you know what happens to lying sluts. Hey. You heard about me, right? [a smile on his face, lopsided, his over-full lips stretched thin, like a cut with a knife.]