[Billy reaches over and catches him by the elbow. There's still lightning in his hand, but it's not the biting kind, not yet, and it dances over Kavinsky's skin like it's a pet that just wants to get to know him. It plays around his wrists, twirling there for a moment before dissipating into the air.
And then Billy lets go.]
At least we're united on that front.
[He says it very dryly, in a way that suggests he's not into the vulgarity of the comment even though he's into the honesty of it.
He takes a breath and out of the sky, out of no cloud and no storm, there's a jolt of bright blue lightning, a perfect branch of it flashing and hitting the sand with tremendous energy. Sand flies up into the air, and then the sound hits them. The booming of it seems to fling itself to the sea.
The smell of ozone and the peculiar smell of sand turning to glass permeates the space between them.]
no subject
And then Billy lets go.]
At least we're united on that front.
[He says it very dryly, in a way that suggests he's not into the vulgarity of the comment even though he's into the honesty of it.
He takes a breath and out of the sky, out of no cloud and no storm, there's a jolt of bright blue lightning, a perfect branch of it flashing and hitting the sand with tremendous energy. Sand flies up into the air, and then the sound hits them. The booming of it seems to fling itself to the sea.
The smell of ozone and the peculiar smell of sand turning to glass permeates the space between them.]