Kavinsky contemplated the hesitation he could see in the line of Lee's jaw, the set of his back, and he wondered if it was the age difference or the knowledge that, the last time they'd met, it had been with him stalking up behind Newt while the two of them had danced. Sure, the three of them had danced, and laughed. He could still vaguely remember the warmth of it all. But Lee had also been terribly careful when Kavinsky first appeared, and that definitely hadn't been because of his and Newt's ages.

He put the thoughts out of his head. They wouldn't do him any good now. All he could do was think about this moment. All he could do was see where this was going. For now, his eyes tracked Lee's drink, the bob of his Adam's apple, the slow, light track of Lee's fingers on his own skin. It wasn't much, but Kavinsky had had less to work worth than that before.

He ducked his head a little, gaze gone coquettish as he smirked. "So do you take people home, Lee, or are you strictly into being taken home?"