The subtle shift in their touch warmed through Kavinsky, and he tried his best to not look stupid and smitten about it. He gave Jack's hand a little squeeze, doing his best to shift so they were standing closer together than they needed to be. The ability to do this--the permissions for it--sung in his chest, a warm vibration. It was nice to not have to worry.

"Here," Kavinsky said, handing off the beer to Jack once they got their drinks. He left a tip on the bar, then turned to look at the crowd. "Not a bad night."