[For Kavinsky]

[sorriest]

Kavinsky's warehouse looks as much like someplace the factionless have to make do with as ever -- or like the abandoned buildings in the other Darrow. The graveyard takes the spooky atmosphere up another notch, and I don't know if I want Kavinsky to be here or if I want him to have a place to stay that isn't on the verge of crumbling to pieces. He knows people who aren't Newt or me, so why would he be stuck without options?

It wasn't that long ago that we came by to get his things. And now, after one night, there's more crumbling to pieces than just the warehouse.

I can't get Newt out of my head. Can Kavinsky?

Standing outside his pile of bricks and rust and broken glass, I send him a message that I'm hoping he'll answer. We need to talk.

Comments

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky looked up when he heard his phone buzz, rolling to his feet and scooping the phone off the ground. He stared at the message for a moment, wondering what those four words were supposed to mean. After all, it had been--however long. What day was it, anyway? It didn't matter. Newt would have told him what happened. There wasn't anything to talk about.

He headed toward the nearest door and stepped out. Dumpster alley. He rounded the warehouse toward the street, shoving his phone into his jeans as he went.

For the first time, he didn't offer Al a high-five when he spotted him. "Hey."