[kavinsky thinks this is so disgusting, the coccoon was hairy. which is as much why he reaches in to tag one bag o' blue, as why he feels repulsed by the very idea. he rubs it with his other palm for a brief moment, reassuring himself that the synthetic material is commonplace to whatever holds plasma and the other fluids generally required for medical practice. not that he's had extensive practice with that kind of thing, but whatever, he's come down off stimulants bug-eyed at four am in the morning in time to catch e.r. reruns before so.
slosh slosh.]
Tell me enough about it to gimme a bad idea, [he suggests, pleased with the peculiar color, the promise of unfamiliar substance.]
no subject
slosh slosh.]
Tell me enough about it to gimme a bad idea, [he suggests, pleased with the peculiar color, the promise of unfamiliar substance.]