Kavinsky crashed down onto Jack's sofa and definitely, absolutely, didn't glance over his shoulder at Jack's back, the way his shirt was stuck to a little patch of still-damp skin across his shoulders. He didn't do that, because he was trying to navigate the near incomprehensible system of interdimensional cable that he had almost, nearly, figured out how to navigate, until he finally got to the channel he wanted.

France was performing. He didn't care.

He got back up and joined Jack in the kitchen. "Bulgaria got eliminated in their semi-final round. Bullshit. It's because some of the countries have automatic placements. I'm devastated. Whatever, not like we can vote from a bubble universe anyway."