[finding himself in a small space, kavinsky finds his neck prickling slightly with discomfort. he does not, however, retreat because that would be lame. and he is characterized by a certain amount of morbid curiosity at times such as these, in a strange new world with a profoundly strange young woman.
he stares at the coccoons. then he reaches up, grasps around the top of his head, manages to get his sunglasses. puts them onto his face for a long moment. then pushes them up again. that was pointless.]
You're into some weird shit, Satya W, [he says. he cocks his head, the sunglasses sitting firmly on the over-gelled encrustation on the roof of his skull.] Can you open one of 'em up? Wanna see what's inside.
no subject
he stares at the coccoons. then he reaches up, grasps around the top of his head, manages to get his sunglasses. puts them onto his face for a long moment. then pushes them up again. that was pointless.]
You're into some weird shit, Satya W, [he says. he cocks his head, the sunglasses sitting firmly on the over-gelled encrustation on the roof of his skull.] Can you open one of 'em up? Wanna see what's inside.