Kavinsky > Lynch

It all started with a text message. Kavinsky rolled over in bed and grabbed his phone. His sunglasses were resting on top and they fell silently to the carpet as he pulled the phone toward him. The charging cable grunted as it decided to stay in the wall instead of in the phone.

His hand disappeared under the covers to give himself a good scratch before he swiped right and pulled up his contact list. "Lynch," he said, the word having a click to it even when the letters didn't beg one.

If you're done with Gansy's knob, I've got one that could use turning.

Smirking, Kavinsky dropped the phone on his chest and closed his eyes. He just had to wait.