[It's not the name. It's something different. Something he considers embarrassing, something that Venkman will never find out about, because it was Kim's own fault for not weathering it.
I feel like the more I stand next to you, the worse my headache gets. Kim's brain feels like it's about to explode from the sheer amount of information and the fact he's trying to hold two conversations at once. It doesn't help that the pain from Venkman bounces around in his skull and gets amplified. He needs some way to block all this out, like how Venkman used that strange mascot to prevent Kim from seeing his thoughts. Over the next few seconds, Venkman gets a steady drone of some long, boring novel that Kim read once upon a time--the Revacholian equivalent of "War and Peace".]
Fine. [He glances around at the dilapidated surroundings, taking in the blankets and supplies. The Kim-narrated audiobook doesn't stop, but his defenses are likely weaker than Venkman's (probably) practiced mental barrier.] I'll leave, since your condition seems to become worse the longer I stay here. I would appreciate it if you told me who was helping you so I know you're actually being cared for, but it's not necessary. Does that sound good to you?
[Still. It's connected, isn't it? To whatever Kim wants to keep hidden, which he's not going to try to look into. Kim wants to keep a secret, and Venkman's no stranger to that. He'll at least extend him that courtesy.
Venkman hardly even noticed the headache until Kim mentions it to him- it's been such a constant of the last few days, he's starting to forget what it was like to live without it. Not only that, but he's spent this whole conversation fueled by adrenaline and rage. With the possibility of Kim finally leaving, some of that fight is going out of him, and he can focus again on the way his head pounds, of how much effort it's really taking to keep his body upright.
The sound of Kim mentally reciting the driest shit he's ever heard this side of Egon does not at all help, and Venkman grimaces, fighting through the feeling of his skull splitting in half to take another potshot at Kim.]
Plead the fifth. 'm not telling you shit.
[Though before Venkman can cling to Stay Puft once more, something flashes in his weakened mind, a memory tinged with quiet, tired pleasure- Venkman curled up against someone, one of the other person's arm's around his, his face pressed into their chest as he breathes slowly, evenly- almost asleep. He eyes the hand laced in his, and how short the red string connecting them is, now. He knows the other person is asleep, but he raises the hand to his lips and kisses it on the knuckles anyway, gently- a gesture that winds up being more for his own benefit than for the other's. Every part of his body and mind hurts, but he has this, and for now, it's enough to keep him going. To keep him alive. And he knows they're not safe, here, not really, but at least they're together. He closes his eyes.
Kim almost certainly doesn't catch the full memory- only a snippet of his thoughts during it. But once it's done flashing through his mind he'll find Venkman is shaking- either from the illness wreaking havoc on his body or fury, it's hard to tell. Probably both. He takes a step back- more of a stumble, really- and leans one hand on the wall to keep himself standing.]
[The phrase Venkman states is utter nonsense to Kim--he doesn't know what the hell the "fifth" is, though he can assume that it's related to law enforcement in some way. He doesn't have time to ruminate on this, though. The lieutenant simply crosses his hands behind his back, turns around, and proceeds to walk away without another word. His footfalls echo through the hallway as he retreats.
He tries to keep his mind on other things--police radio codes and signals, how the engine of a Coupris Kineema creates the distinct sound that so many people complain about, the mechanics of the cranes that lift cargo crates in the harbor. But this headache makes his fingers itch to reach for the cigarette he knows is in his pocket--the cigarette he saves for his nightly ritual of going over the day's events. Would it be worth it to break his own rules to deal with the pain?
The doubt is enough to make Kim's barrier falter slightly, and Venkman's thoughts inadvertently seep through the cracks. Kim's response rises instinctively, but it's...likely not what Venkman was expecting. It's uncharacteristically envious in tone. With how easily it seems to bubble to the surface, it doesn't seem to be the first time Kim has said this to himself.
He has something that you've always wanted--something that you'll never have.
The lieutenant is gone from Venkman's immediate presence, but his thoughts take some time to fade.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I feel like the more I stand next to you, the worse my headache gets. Kim's brain feels like it's about to explode from the sheer amount of information and the fact he's trying to hold two conversations at once. It doesn't help that the pain from Venkman bounces around in his skull and gets amplified. He needs some way to block all this out, like how Venkman used that strange mascot to prevent Kim from seeing his thoughts. Over the next few seconds, Venkman gets a steady drone of some long, boring novel that Kim read once upon a time--the Revacholian equivalent of "War and Peace".]
Fine. [He glances around at the dilapidated surroundings, taking in the blankets and supplies. The Kim-narrated audiobook doesn't stop, but his defenses are likely weaker than Venkman's (probably) practiced mental barrier.] I'll leave, since your condition seems to become worse the longer I stay here. I would appreciate it if you told me who was helping you so I know you're actually being cared for, but it's not necessary. Does that sound good to you?
no subject
Venkman hardly even noticed the headache until Kim mentions it to him- it's been such a constant of the last few days, he's starting to forget what it was like to live without it. Not only that, but he's spent this whole conversation fueled by adrenaline and rage. With the possibility of Kim finally leaving, some of that fight is going out of him, and he can focus again on the way his head pounds, of how much effort it's really taking to keep his body upright.
The sound of Kim mentally reciting the driest shit he's ever heard this side of Egon does not at all help, and Venkman grimaces, fighting through the feeling of his skull splitting in half to take another potshot at Kim.]
Plead the fifth. 'm not telling you shit.
[Though before Venkman can cling to Stay Puft once more, something flashes in his weakened mind, a memory tinged with quiet, tired pleasure- Venkman curled up against someone, one of the other person's arm's around his, his face pressed into their chest as he breathes slowly, evenly- almost asleep. He eyes the hand laced in his, and how short the red string connecting them is, now. He knows the other person is asleep, but he raises the hand to his lips and kisses it on the knuckles anyway, gently- a gesture that winds up being more for his own benefit than for the other's. Every part of his body and mind hurts, but he has this, and for now, it's enough to keep him going. To keep him alive. And he knows they're not safe, here, not really, but at least they're together. He closes his eyes.
Kim almost certainly doesn't catch the full memory- only a snippet of his thoughts during it. But once it's done flashing through his mind he'll find Venkman is shaking- either from the illness wreaking havoc on his body or fury, it's hard to tell. Probably both. He takes a step back- more of a stumble, really- and leans one hand on the wall to keep himself standing.]
Get out.
[Of his head? Of the building? Probably both.
Definitely both.]
no subject
He tries to keep his mind on other things--police radio codes and signals, how the engine of a Coupris Kineema creates the distinct sound that so many people complain about, the mechanics of the cranes that lift cargo crates in the harbor. But this headache makes his fingers itch to reach for the cigarette he knows is in his pocket--the cigarette he saves for his nightly ritual of going over the day's events. Would it be worth it to break his own rules to deal with the pain?
The doubt is enough to make Kim's barrier falter slightly, and Venkman's thoughts inadvertently seep through the cracks. Kim's response rises instinctively, but it's...likely not what Venkman was expecting. It's uncharacteristically envious in tone. With how easily it seems to bubble to the surface, it doesn't seem to be the first time Kim has said this to himself.
He has something that you've always wanted--something that you'll never have.
The lieutenant is gone from Venkman's immediate presence, but his thoughts take some time to fade.]