Ocelot is halfway through a bottle of bad scotch the first time he kisses Kazuhira.
“What’s with the sour face, Miller?” he demands, standing up, and putting himself in his way, as Kaz goes to move past the table he’s been drinking at.
“You’re drunk,” Kaz replies, belligerent. “Get out of my way.”
Ocelot grins, and stands his ground. “Not so fast. There’s a tax.”
“Tax? What the hell are you talking about?”
Before Kaz can react, Ocelot has hold of his bright yellow scarf and uses it to drag him closer.
[ID: 4 arms holding hands. the arms are labeled “Intersex Rights”, “Reproductive Rights”, “Trans Rights”, and “Disability Rights”. The hands are labeled “Bodily Autonomy”
