Of course, he did. Death couldn't stomp out the flame burning in his chest. Kavinsky wanted what he always wanted; to be entertained. But more than that, he wanted to set fire to the corners of the world. This dream was already burning and he took a moment to appreciate it. He appreciated the flames, the fire in Ronan's eyes, the fact that they were both standing here.

He was itching, restless, desperate to bust out of the confines of the dream, but he wasn't the one with that power right now. So he held steady instead, grinning right back at Ronan. Kavinsky had wanted him before. He wanted him now. Some things didn't change and he was nothing if not a creature of habit.

"You've gotta be desperate, coming to me." But he didn't say it meanly. If anything, he was almost giddy. He'd never thought he'd see Ronan again, but here they were. Ronan looked good; a little older while Kavinsky remained the same as the memories that shaped him. That suited him just fine.

"Unless you've changed your mind." He could see that Ronan had changed his mind; it was rhetorical. Ronan had been fire before, but he'd been contained. Kavinsky'd tried to break him loose; he'd been denied. Now things were different. The dream told him as much. A lot of things were different.