Once his pants were open, Poison pulled back. He looked down at Kav's face, staring for a moment, hand still resting against his jaw. He was-- his face prompted a weird mix of memories. And if he let them blur together, they could be this face. Maybe.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Kavinsky, tried to clear his head again. "You dream things like Lynch does, don't you?" People talked a lot around him. Sometimes they forgot he was even around. He liked it that way.