to know me as hardly golden is to know me all wrong. gavin williams, seventeen year old boy. you can find me on clear nights when the clouds form foam-tipped waves of the sky watching the constellations move. i live in the hollow spaces between your bones. {RP only}
Gavin felt bad, but he hadn't been paying full attention to Davey. For some reason as soon as the sun went down, all these dumb creatures decided it was time to attack. Seriously, how were all these bugs finding him? Was he so pale that the moon turned him into a lantern? Was that why moths kept smacking repeatedly into his face despite numerous efforts to keep them at bay? Or maybe why the mosquitos were insistent on landing on his neck, despite the fact that Gavin had little to offer them. Didn't these bugs know Gavin was someone dangerous? A force to be reckoned with? Not a fucking feeding ground?
The other animals seemed to get the memo, squirrels and deer staying far away. Gavin gave off a sort of vibe in the wilderness. It was partly why he wasn't an outdoors-y person. It was never much fun to wander around nature when every time you finally spotted an animal, fear shone in their eyes and they scampered off as fast as possible. Other than that, Gavin was just a city boy at heart. He was born in one. He knew cities. They were more comfortable than whatever this torturous suburban wilderness concoction was.
What forced Gavin back to attention was the tone in Davey's voice. It was a tone used around him all too often, when both of them were offstage during rehearsal, or when Davey was just feeling exceptionally loving, or whenever he saw a couple making out in the hallway and tried to convince Gavin to be that couple (which had actually worked, because Gavin knew how much it annoyed everyone else to see those couples. Also because he was terrible at denying Davey anything.). Gavin knew that tone. But Davey wasn't supposed to know Gavin was around here, so what was he- oh. Davey had conveniently forgotten to zip his tent back up. Meaning that Gavin had a perfect view of everything about to happen. Also meaning that some lucky mosquito (or maybe unlucky) got to land on Gavin's throat, only to burst from the sudden flow of blood as he swallowed hard.
Gavin buried himself a little deeper in the bushes, trying not to be spotted or heard while keeping a perfect view. A little voice in the back of his head laughed at how those were his shorts, but that voice was then cut off because there were no shorts and okay, that was something Gavin couldn't very well ignore or make jokes during. It was dumb, but Gavin was permanently stuck as a teen, hormones and all. Even if he'd managed to hide it better.
Suddenly, Gavin remembered he wasn't supposed to have a view. He was supposed to be talking to Davey and it'd been a minute or so since either one of them had said anything. Trying to keep his voice the same as it had been, Gavin spoke into the mouthpiece, voice just a smidge lower than he'd hoped. "I miss you too, Davey baby. Can't stop thinking about you, just so you know. You're using that voice where I usually kiss you right about now and it's killing me not to." And of course it was true. Gavin would've killed a bird and displayed its corpse, cat-style, if it impressed Davey (it wouldn't).
And Gavin would've set fire to his own apartment if it meant allowing himself to sneak out of his hiding spot and just make out with Davey (he liked to not let mind-scenarios get out of hand) until dawn, but Davey's mom was right there, and he'd sworn he wouldn't reveal himself. Under any circumstances. But if he rustled nearby plants just a little too conspicuously, well, who could really blame him?
If it took Gavin a second to process what Xavier was saying, that was because the thought had never even crossed his mind. Yes, Gavin was a cheat. He'd passed high school about three times now. He knew how to stop working and how to work out systems to get all the answers without trying. And he would mess with his friends in playful games that didn't matter, or even when he'd return to Las Vegas and would work to his advantage (maybe having a little extra charm was unfair, but Gavin wouldn't say no to it. Besides, it was always so much fun.).
So no, Gavin didn't care about the idea of swindling some losers out of a couple hundred dollars. That wasn't what surprised him.
If it took Gavin a minute to process what Xavier was saying, it was because here, of all places, didn't look very smart. He'd never been caught before (again, probably something to do with the fact that if anyone ever side-eyed him he'd just crank up the appeal), but there was something about the people he was surrounded by that set him on edge. Gavin had the feeling those goons would try to knock him out even if they didn't suspect anything suspicious. People always underestimated Gavin's strength.
It was probably the baby face. Or maybe the dainty features. Or perhaps the ridiculously skinny frame. Or the dumb haircut. Or the voice like itty bitty birds. Who knew.
But Gavin couldn't see a weapon and Xavier had a point, and they were here to have fun anyways, right? Gavin sent X a look that was a cross between bemused and disbelieving. "Okay, sure. That's a much better plan. But if there's any trouble, you're digging yourself out of it, got it?" He wasn't serious. Of course he wasn't. He flashed a smile Xavier's way. "It's your idea, so you take the lead. I'll be your good luck charm. I've got loads of that."
If only he was talking about luck rather than charm.
Gavin, of course, had to make his own way up to Davey. The campsite wasn't too terribly far away, so that wasn't the problem. No, the problem was that, now that Gavin was here, he didn't know where to be that both kept an eye an Davey and kept him in the shadows. Because it was still so close to suburbia, there were only so many good sites all evenly spread apart (Gavin was sure at the meeting where the idea was spawned, someone said, "It'll be great for the kids who can't get out of the house but have parents who still want to pretend that they love them" or something like that). He bit his lip, still dangerously close to Davey's campsite. And then his phone vibrated.
Cursing quietly, Gavin darted silently through the underbrush to get out of earshot of Davey. And of course, it was him. Who else would call, really? Gavin cursed again, this time louder, at the sight of several unopened messages and snapchats. He must have missed those when he was driving (and shit, he had to move his car, too. Davey couldn't see that.). But hey, it wasn't Gavin's fault that he was an incredibly safe driver. If he was going to keep someone else safe in a car, he had to first keep himself safe. Or something like that. Gavin brushed a bug off his leg aggressively, making something startle at the sudden movement. He couldn't see what it was. All he knew was that he totally did not like nature.
Faking a sleepy voice, Gavin answered the phone. It was the best excuse he could come up with on short notice. A bird cawed loudly from the tip of the tree in front of him, setting about eighty other flapping off into the distance. Gavin visibly winced, hoping that the noise didn't pick up on the phone. Or that if it did, that Davey played it off as his own campsite sounds. It was so much more difficult to hide in nature. The whole world was out to get you. And pretty literally, at that. Gavin yawned, getting in character. "Hi sweetheart. Sorry I didn't answer, I fell asleep. Time moves at a snail's pace when you're not around, and, well, I didn't know what to do with all of mine. How's the great outdoors?"
Gavin's arm was itching madly and he wondered what he had run though. Shit, that hairy vine, that was totally poison ivy. It shouldn't have affected him very much, but it still sucked. Gavin suppressed a groan, since he was still on the phone with Davey. How did he voluntarily come out here every year? This was pure torture! The worst sort Gavin could even imagine! Bugs and snakes and plants that tried to kill you in your sleep—because some of those vines looked downright murderous to the point that Gavin decided to never ever set foot in a jungle if suburban plants make him on edge.
Maybe Davey was right when he'd been dramatic and flopping all over, saying "what if the bears maul me" and "the plants can kill me" and "I could drown without you!" Now that he was forced into nature the hard way, Gavin could maybe see where some of that was possible. And that only made him a billion times more glad that he was there to make sure none of that happened, and a billion times more watchful to make sure none of that happened.
Jack and Coke, of course. Predictable. A favorite of young ones who want to look like they know what they're doing, but really just want to get really drunk for relatively cheap. Gavin should've known. For someone who didn't drink much, it wouldn't take very many of those at all. The only good thing about this was that Xavier didn't drink rarely. He was definite a party animal and Gavin was kind of counting on the hope that he knew how to not be completely idiot when drunk. Gavin took a small sip at first, like he always did, testing the quality of it.
"The thing about bars is," he said loudly over the noise, "they never put enough alcohol in. You see, alcohol costs more than whatever else they mix in with it. So when you're at home, or at a party and they don't know how to schmooze or don't care, they put way more alcohol in. At bars, they get all stingy and give you less bang for your buck so that they can get more." It was a smart tactic. Other people used it all the time. And it made sense. Gavin had discovered it shortly after he had an alcoholic beverage the first time and never really cared to tell anyone because no one ever cared. But hey, Xavier probably already knew. And it didn't matter anyways. There was still alcohol in there.
Gavin really had to stop worrying about X. He felt like his every thought revolved around the other, and sure it mattered that they made it home in one piece, but Xavier did things like this and Gavin had to remember that. He always made it home in one piece. Tonight was just like other nights. It was fine, okay? Perfectly fine. And the drink in his hand would definitely help solidify that thought. Definitely yes. Because tonight wasn't special and neither was he. He swallowed more than he probably should have.
One of the best parts about being a vampire was the alcohol tolerance. Never had to worry about any liver problems, seeing as Gavin's body was frozen in a state of perpetual youth and perfect health. Part of the package. But when his blood didn't really run due to the whole no-heartbeat deal, the alcohol kind of struggled to dilute his bloodstream as quickly as others. Because when the blood isn't flowing, it sort of just sits there. It took more to get more. It was nearly impossible for his BAC (he thought it stood for Blood Alcohol Concentration, but he's still not sure) level to be too high. He'd never been stopped by cops, but even if he had he'd probably pass a breathalyzer test. And Gavin was pretty grateful, seeing as he'd been such a lightweight in the past.
Gavin finished his drink quickly (maybe a little too quickly) and signaled for another, pulling out his wallet while glancing up at a boast. Some guy was proclaiming he was the best at cards and was challenging others to a game, any game they wanted. He was clearly intoxicated and Gavin was inclined to ignore him, but hey, what's a night without some fun? "Hey, X," he said, nudging the other with a wicked glint in his eyes, "how much you wanna bet I can destroy that bastard in Slapjack or something?" Slapjack had to have been the dumbest game he'd ever heard of, smacking a deck the second a jack came up. And while Gavin was amazing at that game due to his upped reflexes (he actually played it sometimes by himself to keep them sharp), he was clearly joking, the or something hanging in the air.
Gavin had to say, out of everyone he knew, Davey had to be one of the most theatrical. He'd just opened his mouth to laugh and retaliate with, "There are no bears, trust me." but found that part of his face otherwise preoccupied. And as much as kissing Davey was fun, they only had a few hours left and Gavin had to convince him that he wouldn't die and that Gavin would miss him to death. Because, well, he would.
He pulled away only about an inch, partly so that Davey would be able to breathe (Gavin had to make a mental note to remember that more--kissing had to let Davey breathe. Because he's human and needs to breathe. Right.). He kissed Davey gently on the nose, the way cats always do. It was actually a technique he'd learned from animals. "Hey, no, you're not Ophelia and I'm not Hamlet. If anything, I'd be Macbeth, because I just-" he paused to kiss Davey's cheek "-can't-" and the other "-get-" his nose again "-enough." He accentuated the final word by actually kissing Davey again. Perhaps he was just feeling affectionate. Perhaps he just wanted to remember every little bit about Davey for the longest week ever. Quietly carding his fingers through Davey's hair (so much softer than it looked, and that was saying something), Gavin forced himself to continue. "And you, you would be Olivia, the most beautiful of all, for whom every single character can't help but fall."
To keep up the vague idea Gavin'd had before coming over (be playful—because of course Gavin'll still be there with Davey, but wouldn't it be fun if Davey didn't realize that?), Gavin gently removed himself from Davey, dancing a few feet away and picking up a stray shirt, twirling as he folded it and added it to the open suitcase with a flourish. "But you, young man," he said with a tap on the nose, "you've got more packing to do! It's not a funtabulous extravaganza if you run out of underwear the fourth time you fall headfirst into a stream, right?"
Well. Hopefully the streams would be clean. Or at least clean enough that someone could bathe in them. Wasn't that always the goal? Bathing in the wild or whatever? Gavin was more of a city boy himself, having grown up in one. He was looking forward to this extravaganza about as much as Davey probably was right now, but it couldn't be so bad. Fresh air and a spring break... It would be good for both of them, he was sure of it. It had to be, right?
Baby,
Where are you going
Don’t be such a diva
You can’t just leave now
Come back don’t bore me
You can’t just ignore me
Isn’t your boyfriend out of town?
I said yes,
And you should get out of town too
Out of all the times of the year, spring break had to be one of the most welcomed. It came at the perfect time, right after midterms and right as the final quarter began and every single student was antsy to get out and do something about the welcoming weather. And it also happened that it was the one time year of year that Davey’s mom wasn’t totally busy. The Patterson Family Camping Extravaganza—Gavin thought that was what it was called—was an annual thing, a spring break spent camping in the wilderness, mother/son bonding time. A cute concept. Even cute in execution. But this year of all years, Gavin would’ve really liked a spring break with Davey. There was always snapchat, and texting, but it wasn’t the same thing.
When he hauled himself through the window, once again regularly unlocked, Davey was packing sadly, stuffing clothing into a duffel bag. The funny thing was, most of it wasn’t even his own clothing. Gavin picked up a shirt off the bed, pinching it between two fingers. “Huh,” he said, “looks familiar.” He raised one eyebrow at Davey, amusement in his eyes. Of course Davey would pack most of Gavin’s stuff. He was obsessed with that cheesy sort of thing, always stealing hoodies to sleep in. Gavin knew how Davey felt about the smells fading; he was always upset and made Gavin rewear clothing for a day or two until it smelled like him again. So Gavin shrugged out of his jacket, quietly placing it on top of the already-full bag of clothing. He’d only miss it for a week anyways.
Gavin sat on Davey’s bed, legs curled up beneath him, making him look much younger than he was. His eyes scanned the room, looking for differences: Moulin Rouge was no longer on the shelf, but instead permanently had a place in immediate proximity to the television. And the one side of the bed didn’t smell like Gavin anymore, which he personally liked. Gavin always preferred the way Davey smelled: warm, like chocolate chip cookies and home. “So, you’re leaving for a week, huh?” He said finally, unsure of what he was supposed to say. Did he beg Davey to stay? No, because of his mother. Did he say how much he’d miss him? No, because that would only make Davey feel bad. There wasn’t much he could say. “What a bummer. It’ll be great when you get back.” Even that would’ve been mean if it wasn’t for the teasing tone. Gavin wasn’t trying to make him feel bad, just trying to poke fun. It was one week. And Gavin would be there every step of the way. Not that Davey was allowed to know that. It was so much more fun seeing his dramatics in action. Davey wasn’t the type to do things halfway, and Gavin couldn’t wait to see what ridiculousness would occur this time.
Especially since Davey would have signal, and snapchat was a beautiful thing.
Freud Was (Possibly) Right || Self Para || Event No. 1
//Yes hello this was for the event that was AGES ago but it goes along with the para Becky and I are (still) doing and yeah basically I knew I was gonna lose it if i didn't post it already and I wanted to post it because it gives sooo much insight into his character so here have the longest thing I've written in my entire life and a shitload of background:
It shouldn't have caused anything. Seven in the morning on a Sunday, and the only thing on TV is the news. Davey wouldn't be waking up until closer to one in the afternoon. Gavin had time, though he preferred to be near his human. It made sense to run out for substance, both for him and for Davey. And a coffee never hurt anyone. And... well, he was here now, and it was warm, unlike the outside... and maybe he could spend a few minutes here. The coffee was scalding and Gavin couldn't help but smile as it tried to burn his throat. He was about to leave when a small, brightly-colored blanket caught his eye—or rather, what it was obscuring. In the corner sat a small television turned on to the news, a large corner of wool covering the main story.
Gavin felt his stomach tie into a knot, not wanting to go over and move the cloth, though he was unsure why. For some reason, he thought something bad was about to happen or had happened, or perhaps he had a part in it. Something was too familiar about the small bit he could see. His eyes zeroed in, still not wanting to see the photos or video clip no doubt on repeat. Lips were easy enough to read.
So Gavin's gut instinct had been the one to follow. Of course he knew about it, because he'd participated. Hah, unknown accomplice, just sitting casually (or not so casually anymore) in a coffee shop like nothing had happened. Of course he knew it was bad, but maybe not quite this bad, because he wasn’t even in jail anymore, like really what’s the news there and how did they know it was Xavier, and wasn’t it illegal to talk about students on the news- oh wait, no, Xavier was a legal adult now, and oh man Jayden was going to kill him, and what if they got Gavin, and that was a selfish thought, but what if they did because then they could get Davey and that was not allowed not possible and the mere thought had Gavin shuddering uncontrollably in public.
In fact, had Gavin not been sitting, it's very likely he would have wound up on his ass with coffee spilled around him. As it was, his mouth dropped open an inch and his eyes widened. It was a futile attempt to hide anything. This was fucking embarrassing as hell, shivering in a public place with a face like he'd just seen a ghost. Gavin had to take control of the situation. He had to. Except... he couldn't.
What do you most desire?
Gavin had no idea where the question came from. It was his own voice in his head, just calmly asking himself what he wanted in life. It may have been odd, but it calmed him down a little. More puzzled than alarmed. And right at that moment, the only thing on Gavin's mind was getting out of there scot-free and getting back to Davey... Davey Davey Davey the boy Gavin should never have gotten quite so close to but was oh so glad he had.
What did Gavin desire? Of course he desired a normal life and to be able to remember everything he did, but those were things he couldn't control. There would never come a time where he would wake up to a beating heart and a recollection of the night before. Life—death—didn't work that way.
What did Gavin desire? More like what he feared. He feared nothing, not anymore. He feared letting his guard down and someone hurting a person he cared about. He feared for small children with fathers who smelled of whiskey. He feared hurting those he loved, so he tried to avoid loving anyone (a plan that worked pretty well until Davey came along). Then again, he also feared dying alone, making his fears contradict each other. Besides, every living creature someday dies and dies alone. Good thing he wasn't a living creature.
So. Gavin knew his fears. Now what did he desire? He desired for everyone he cared about to be safe. He desired for small children to be taken away from homes with alcohol. He desired for the ability to never hurt anyone unintentionally ever again, and he desired to never die alone.
This was not at all helpful to Gavin's subconscious.
And then, the next thing he knew, Gavin was standing so abruptly the barista looked over in alarm. And then he was gone. And the dust swirled behind him, and the coffee lay forgotten on the table, and the bell faded in his ears.
He desired closure.
•••
Gavin was perfectly conscious and aware of his actions. They were his movements, his decisions. So what if he followed the little voice in the back of his mind? Wasn't that usually right anyways?
The graveyard was newer, making the older sections more noticeable. Gavin was surprised the headstone was still there. Usually, to save money and space, people would tear down the headstones after about a hundred years and the body had a chance to decompose and the family had died off. Most graves held more than one person, though no one knew. He'd put in a special request to keep this grave safe from such things, but that was years ago and god knows people don't keep their promises. Gavin didn't even know why he'd asked it, not really.
Make amends with your father.
It had been pestering him the whole way here, this one thought plaguing him. Gavin couldn't do a thing without the voice repeating itself. And he wasn't even sure why he wanted to do this. His father was dead anyways. He didn't miss the man. A life of fear was the worst for the body and mind. Every day a question and every nap worrisome. Besides, any feelings Gavin did have, he'd given up on. It had been years.
The name was faded, the stone nearly all one texture by now. Gavin knelt in the dewy grass, quietly tracing a finger across the patterned letters he'd burned into his memory. There are some things you don't forget.
A flash of movement caught his eye and Gavin whipped his head up. He could have sworn he was here alone. People didn't visit cemeteries at eight in the morning on a Sunday. And he was right. Instead of a person, the red he'd seen had been a small grove of tulips growing wild by a tree. Gavin winced. Ever since he'd read that Sylvia Plath poem, he'd hated red tulips. Gavin nearly laughed at the irony. Two things he hated in one small location. Of course. For all he knew, those tulips were his father exacting a small revenge.
Make amends with your father.
Right. There was something he came here for. Gavin cleared his throat. He'd seen this done on TV. How hard could it be? A little weird to talk to a gravestone, but it was the best he could do. If hell existed, Gavin hoped perhaps they'd give him five minutes to hear his son.
"Um. So. Hey dad. It's me. Gavin. Your son. And I, uh, wanted to, you know. I guess. Say something." This was so much harder than it was on TV. The voice got more aggravated as it again told him to make amends with his father. Gavin took a deep breath in and held it for a full minute before allowing himself to slowly exhale. He could do this. "Look. I know you treated me like fucking dog shit stuck to the bottom of your shoe, totally unwanted and ruining your day, but..."
Gavin paused. But what? Why should he have to be the one to say anything? This wasn't his fault. He was the victim here! Gavin could feel heat building inside him. This whole thing was dumb.
"You know what? But nothing. You treated me like shit. Your only son. YOU TREATED ME LIKE SHIT!" Gavin was yelling now, hoping maybe he could scream loud enough to make his father listen like he never did. Both hands gripped the headstone, bits of rock falling apart in his hands. "I was your only son! I was your only son! It's not my fault mom left, it's your fault you became a fucking alcoholic! I am not to blame here, Dad."—he spat the last word.—"So you know what? I hope you enjoy hell. Because you deserve it."
Gavin moved to stand and leave, perhaps spit on the grave. His upper lip moved into a snarl, small angry noises where there should have been none. With everything he had left, he said as malevolently as possible, "Fuck. You."
And that was it. Gavin couldn't take it. He fell to his ass in a patch of fucking crabgrass—they couldn't even make sure it was real grass, no. And he started crying, loud sobs that shook his whole body, all the while managing fuck yous until he could no longer breathe.
Gavin sat there for what seemed like forever. Every bad memory he had of his father poured out, every hostile word and every angry slam. Even after the tears wouldn't come, he sat there, watching the grass dry and recalling moments he wish he couldn't remember.
The sun was rising up his back, and Gavin could feel it. He should've been getting back to Davey. The train home—and that's how he thought of it now, where Davey was—would take close to an hour.
The last bad memory of Gavin's father. The last memory of Gavin's father. The one he had avoided for close to a century. The one that occurred after he was turned, the one he could remember every detail of all too clearly.
Everyone nearby had heard the story. Newbie goes home, why would he go home? That's stupid. Anyways. Newbie goes home. Never tasted blood. It's overwhelming. The next thing he knows, his family's dead. He's both satisfied and horrified. You can't have both.
Gavin had never liked gossip.
It was an accident. He didn't mean to. He just wanted to grab some clothes before he left for good. It wasn't his fault. Gavin's dad was never home at that hour. Too early. Had to be stumbling in at two in the morning, not in the kitchen just after dusk with a worried expression. Gavin couldn't recall a time in the two years prior that his father had been functionally sober. It wasn't supposed to happen. His father wasn't supposed to embrace him and sob "I'm sorry"s into his neck, apologies of being a shitty father and promising to change. It wasn't supposed to happen. It was an accident, not a therapeutic chain of events.
Gavin didn't even know what was happening. One moment he was both cautious and hopeful that household dynamics would change, and the next his body was reacting in ways that caused him to poke his tongue at small points in his mouth. One moment he was elated at quenching his thirst, the next he felt the warm weight of his father going limp against him. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident an accident an accident.
Gavin stared quietly at the headstone, name just barely visible. His hands had dug into the dirt subconsciously, moist soil clogging beneath his fingernails. A choked noise escaped, and then there it was.
"I'm sorry."
It was barely a whisper, barely a mention, but once he'd said it he couldn't stop.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry sorry sorry I'm SORRY I'm sorry I'm sosososorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Dad I'm sorry Dad I'm so sorry Dad please forgive me I'm so sorry Daddy please."
He babbled incoherently for perhaps a touch longer than necessary, but Gavin had a century's worth of sorrys to make up for. "I'm sorry I'm sorry, Dad, you tried to fix things, that proves you were actually a good man, I know you were. You treated me like shit, but man did we have some good times. You tried your hardest and I'm sorry I never forgave you but I forgive you now and I'm sorry I'm sorry, Dad, I love you. I know I never showed it but I swear I did and I do, I love you, Dad, and I'm sorry."
The sun was too high for Gavin's liking. He had to go home. "I'm sorry Dad, I have to go. There's a boy now, I think you'd probably hate him, he's a sweetheart. He's my world. Looked after him since he was a baby. Different guy before him. Maybe because you never could, the universe is letting me take care of people like they should be taken care of. I'm sorry, but I have to go. He'll be waking up soon. I don't want him to worry. Hey Dad, I'm sorry. I love you."
Gavin wiped his hand across his face, trading tear trails for clean skin. The nagging in his head was gone. Before leaving, Gavin sliced the tulips from their roots and quietly lay them at the foot of his father's tombstone, the George just barely distinguishable. And to the right, on a stone set in the ground, now overgrown by long grasses and covered in leaves, he left a single flower for the person he used to be. The letters were newer than his father's, but only by a decade or so. Gavin smiled sadly as he traced the worn letters, spelling out quietly, Ryan Ross.
Gavin knew how to work places like this. He was anything but at ease, taking in the men twice his size in the corner (though he knew he could destroy them both if it came to it), the subtle bulge of a gun in the back of the pants of the man next to him, the girl with the small knife strapped to the inside of her go-go boots, the tiniest bit of a handle protruding. Yeah, Gavin wasn't intimidated by anyone here, but if X did anything overwhelmingly stupid like the rumors he'd heard, Gavin wasn't entirely sure he could defend them both. Of course, of course they had to be here.
He raised one eyebrow, keeping his body language neutral and relaxed, giving off an air of superiority. Fake it til you make it, right? It was obvious that Xavier was doing the same thing, shifting minutely just enough to ensure no suspicion arose. Oh, he didn't just know what he was doing, he was comfortable with it, simultaneously setting Gavin on edge and putting him at ease. Ease, because he knew X wouldn't get caught. Edge, because he was starting to wonder about how often X did this sort of thing. And that was definitely something to be concerned about.
Eyebrow still quirked, an amused expression on his face, Gavin replied, "I'm actually working my way through every single fruity vodka mixture I can find the name of. It's a long hard process, and of course you need multiple trials." Gavin always took every opportunity to try and make it sound like what he did was for something scientific, or something scholarly, or... Anything to make it sound less reckless or dumb, and more reasonable. "But I'm curious, considering I know almost nothing about this side of you. And since you so generously offered, I'll take whatever you're getting." Part of it was true, he didn't know a thing about X. Part of it was seeing exactly how drunk X planned on getting. You could always tell by the alcohol concentration of a person's drink.
