[they're so high up. kavinsky made a car that could fly, but he'd had no interest in actually driving it. like memory lane, it had been an experiment with sentience.
this is novel actually. he goes to the edge. closer then he probably should, whether or not he's invincible. a riot of nerves in his guts, not the same as fear.] And what does that do to a motherfucker? [he asks, feeling the wind in his hair, the bite at his skin. he thinks if he were shot out into space, he'd be dying forever and never die. it feels like what he's stuck with now, but even he can acknowledge, it'd be worse.]
tw suicidal ideation
this is novel actually. he goes to the edge. closer then he probably should, whether or not he's invincible. a riot of nerves in his guts, not the same as fear.] And what does that do to a motherfucker? [he asks, feeling the wind in his hair, the bite at his skin. he thinks if he were shot out into space, he'd be dying forever and never die. it feels like what he's stuck with now, but even he can acknowledge, it'd be worse.]
It hurt? Kill you?