[ Credence normally dresses like a schoolboy with handmedowns, just a generation behind everyone else--neatly pressed shirts, slacks, loafers that are always shined but just a little too raggedy--and he has never been painfully aware of this when that finger reaches over and undoes the first button. He's also painfully aware that it's near his throat, and the wounded animal part of Credence wants ot instinctively back away but he's proud that he simply stays put, even if he's a deer in headlights.
The night air is cool but welcoming with how hot and flushed he feels like he is, and he swears Kavinsky almost touches him, enough for him to feel how warm the other is despite looking like a statue, jaggedly cut and pristine.
Sure, Kavinsky is called a gutter rat by everyone else, but to Credence, walking just a few steps behind him like a shadow and murmuring apologies as he makes his way through the crowd that seems to swallow him up after Kavinsky parts it. Like a God. No--like a wizard. So full of magic, he's put a spell on all of them.
Credence finds himself smiling, his daydreams cut off only as he's jarred by the other's voice. Right. Right--door. He opens it and slides in, feeling unworthy of the leather beneath him. He's trying to take it all in. ]
Mr. Kavinsky, sir, this is absolutely thrilling. [ And, before he can stop his mouth: ] It's like when I dream about it but it's real.
[ They haven't even gone anywhere. That's the most exciting part. ]
perf
The night air is cool but welcoming with how hot and flushed he feels like he is, and he swears Kavinsky almost touches him, enough for him to feel how warm the other is despite looking like a statue, jaggedly cut and pristine.
Sure, Kavinsky is called a gutter rat by everyone else, but to Credence, walking just a few steps behind him like a shadow and murmuring apologies as he makes his way through the crowd that seems to swallow him up after Kavinsky parts it. Like a God. No--like a wizard. So full of magic, he's put a spell on all of them.
Credence finds himself smiling, his daydreams cut off only as he's jarred by the other's voice. Right. Right--door. He opens it and slides in, feeling unworthy of the leather beneath him. He's trying to take it all in. ]
Mr. Kavinsky, sir, this is absolutely thrilling. [ And, before he can stop his mouth: ] It's like when I dream about it but it's real.
[ They haven't even gone anywhere. That's the most exciting part. ]