"Nah, that's my father's shit. I just asked real nicely," Kavinsky replied. What a world it was where he felt more comfortable talking about how his father was a mobster, than he did about things like being a dreamer. Then again, the rumors had been pretty fierce in Henrietta, and it'd been fact in Jersey. It hadn't ever been worth the energy to try denying it; it wasn't like he'd ever been proud of his father. Kavinsky lost nothing by confirming the truth.

"Probably. Maybe it's too awful to remember." But it was always a struggle, going 'round in a circle between the frustration of not knowing and the potential for it to be something awful you wished you'd never remembered in the first place.

"It's nice to matter to people, and to be able just- to do shit." He wished it was that easy though, that he mattered and people really gave a fuck about him. He wished he mattered for other reasons.

He smirked. "Good thing I like surprises, babe. So what'll it be? Truth or dare?"