It was such a domestic question, friendly even, and it hurt, deep under his skin. Kavinsky was happy to not have eyes on him for this. He had a suspicion that he was going to be a mess in his expression, and he was glad that would only be for him.

"It was good," he said. He tried to soak the accent out of his voice, tried to sound for generic. He climbed back into the bed and curled against Poison, straddling his thigh. His fingers smoothed through his light hair, and he leaned in to kiss his neck. "Errands mostly, until work."