"Because it was real," he answers, resisting the compulsion to give more detail. He has no idea what the fuck is propelling along his side of this conversation now, but there is some shit he will keep to himself, thank you. Pump the goddamn breaks on giving away all his secrets to a stranger around a fucking campfire.

Kavinsky grabs a bottle of something nearby and takes a healthy swig from it, if only to shut himself up for a minute.