There weren't many people out on the streets, but enough. Kavinsky kept his head down, for the most part. He didn't mind being recognized, but he'd prefer not. The admission of the name just cemented in his head, alongside the preexisting memory-thoughts of him, that he was being an idiot. Rumors were as rumors did, and Darrow was not a large place. Kavinsky knew who Poison was, and who he sometimes worked with--or, rather, for.

Kavinsky didn't think this was Ronan fucking with him. It was too drawn out, too complex a scheme. Keeping that smile in place--his dancing smile, the one that got him tips--he said, "Kav. Kav is fine. Is this your first time doing this?"