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[evocation]

@kyna.medina | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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[evocation]

maybe tonight?

[withmeinparadise]

[ well, fuck ]

i could do tonight

[evocation]

okay
let me know when?

[withmeinparadise]

gimme til around 7, gotta finish some stuff

[evocation]

sounds good
wait
maybe you should come to my place instead
so i'm not like
telling you my life story at a fucking bar

[withmeinparadise]

sure. your place, 7 pm.
is your roommate gonna be around?

[ tell him to clear out pls ]

[evocation]

i don't think so

[withmeinparadise]

[ which, you know. cool. but he just says ]

see you then

[ and shows up 15 minutes late, but hey, that's fashionable. even wears a v-neck t-shirt instead of one of his hideous hawaiian shirts, and he has a bottle of whiskey under one arm. you know, housewarming gift or something. ]

[evocation]

["Fashionably late" translates to "intense anxiety", because she instantly starts worrying he's ghosted her. When he shows up, her relief is palpable.]

Uh, hey. What's that?

[withmeinparadise]

[ look, kyna, only losers show up on the dot. he holds out the bottle to her. ]

Since we ain't going to the bar, I figured I'd bring the bar to you.

[ like bringing flowers without the pressure, right? ]

[evocation]

[She grins at that, immediately put a bit more at ease.]

Thanks.

[Instead of stepping back to let him in like a normal person, she takes his arm and pulls him inside.]

[withmeinparadise]

Any time--

[ He's figuring she's reaching for the bottle, but nope, that's definitely his arm. Which, you know, no complaints here, aside from the fact that her skin's inevitably touching his. Glowing chest, a sense of anticipation and slight case of nerves underpinning it, and the inevitable attraction that's always there when Kyna's around--the whole shebang. One of these days, he'll think about wearing sleeves, but maybe not at the height of summer. ]

[evocation]

[Kyna is still anxious too. Grateful, but anxious. When she feels his nervous, she laughs, surprised.]

What are you nervous about?

[withmeinparadise]

Since when am I nervous?

[ He lies without hesitation, his smile as crookedly unworried as ever. It's worth a try, right? ]

You, maybe.

[evocation]

[She gives his arm a little shove, then starts heading towards the kitchen to grab some glasses.]

Yeah, I'm nervous. Duh. That's the point.

[Glasses obtained, it's couch time.]

Don't rub it in.

[withmeinparadise]

[ Fair--he's earned a shove. Sam wanders over to the couch, stretching out his legs in front of him. ]

All right, all right, no rubbing it in. So. Whaddaya wanna talk about?

[evocation]

[Hmm. That's the hard part, isn't it? She plunks the glasses down and sits beside him, cross-legged.]

I don't know.

[She makes a face, head tilting.]

Have you ever... you know. Fucked up really badly?

[withmeinparadise]

Huh? Sure.

[ Well, hell. It's not hesitation, exactly, but he's a nanosecond too slow to answer. But maybe it'll read like he just isn't expecting her to go in that direction. ]

Everyone has. [ Right? He really wants that to be right. And he gives her a smile, one arm resting on the back of the couch like it's an extra armrest. ] You wanna talk about fucking things up?

[evocation]

[Kyna doesn't seem to notice the hesitation, at least, and his assurance does make her feel better.]

No. Yes. I don't know.

[She distracts herself by pouring some of the whiskey into a glass, but doesn't drink it. It's clear stalling.]

I guess... Being back here kind of feels like cheating, you know? But being back home and not remembering anything about here is fucking shitty, too.

[withmeinparadise]

[ Once she's poured herself a glass, he takes the bottle and dashes a share of it into his. Even if it is stalling, it's something to do, something to hold. Worthwhile, in the moment. ]

How much of it's cheating when no one asked us about coming or going? [ Or remembering, for that matter. ] You didn't pack up and move here, y'know--you were kidnapped.

[evocation]

Yeah.

[He's right. Of course he's right.]

It's just that... Um. Back home, I did something dumb, and someone I really care about got hurt.

[withmeinparadise]

[ Which is what she's probably all eaten up about in the first place. Even if it weren't obvious by context--she brought him over for something--the fact that she's stumbling over every third word all of a sudden gives it away. ]

Yeah?

[evocation]

Yeah.

[She sighs, swirling the whiskey in her glass.]

It's... kind of complicated. I don't know how much you want to hear.

[withmeinparadise]

It'd probably suck less if it weren't.

[ Sam watches her, trying to get a feel for just how bad she's talking here. Truthfully, he's not sure just how much he wants to hear about, but it's less for lack of interest--he's curious, of course he is--and more out of the vaguely formed concern that it'll be way too much and he'll...what, have to figure out what to say?

He's not terrible at that. He used to be okay at it, when it was just him and Nathan. Passable at least, right? Maybe it'll be fine. ]

C'mon, lay it on me.

[evocation]

Okay.

[Does she sound hesitant? Probably. It's getting into stupid family bullshit, and she's only really told Ian this stuff so far. Lance knows bits and pieces, but that's because he knew a different version of her, and that's cheating. It's not the same as laying it out for someone.]

Um... I got my magic from my dad, right? He was obsessed with it. But he was also an asshole, and he ditched us when I was like, ten. We saw him a couple of times after that, and then he just disappeared.