[kavinsky revs the engine, and the car seems to scream like an animal that was just branded by its master. which makes sense; kavinsky is not a kind master by any stretch, not to the things that he owns that are dead, nor to those that are living. he looks sideways at credence.
the car smells densely of fresh leather, kavinsky's cologne. the space feels even closer with the reverberations roaring through it. through the windshield, credence can see a girl in a tiny skirt starting to walk up to the starting line, a pair of panties in one hand, a beer in the other. but kavinsky's looking at him. his pupils are as big as full moons, and there seems like an incipient movement in the hand he has over the gearshift, like he's this close to reaching across for the boy next to him. but he doesn't.
his hand, the veins braided over his bent knuckles, all of him is as still as a corpse when he remarks,] What'll you give me if I do?
no subject
the car smells densely of fresh leather, kavinsky's cologne. the space feels even closer with the reverberations roaring through it. through the windshield, credence can see a girl in a tiny skirt starting to walk up to the starting line, a pair of panties in one hand, a beer in the other. but kavinsky's looking at him. his pupils are as big as full moons, and there seems like an incipient movement in the hand he has over the gearshift, like he's this close to reaching across for the boy next to him. but he doesn't.
his hand, the veins braided over his bent knuckles, all of him is as still as a corpse when he remarks,] What'll you give me if I do?