"Nosy," Kavinsky said. He shuffled over toward the fridge while Steve asked his questions and nuzzled at him like that, humming under his breath. It was a nonsensical sort of noise. "What, Ronan and the other me never let you in on all the secrets?"

Not that Kavinsky cared if they had.

He parsed through the questions, deciding which were important and which didn't matter at all. Eventually, he said, "What it says on the tin. More energy? More whatever."