[It's true; while not a kink per se, Warren appreciates the aesthetic of a good finger lickin' view. Giving Bandou the delight of a high-calorie meal was the intent of the gift, after all. Take-out isn't cheap these days! A young man needs to indulge the siren call of greasy food once in a while. Even if he does work in the industry.

Thus, Warren's spying eyes appreciates the demolition derby inflicted on chicken wing mountain, ignoring the angry buzz of his phone until after he has watched the angry slam dunk of the batman-box. He feels good. Happy. Bandou being Bandou, that's all it takes to put a smile on his face.]

You'll be stuffed with thicker meat than chicken wings, later.

[There's no chance a sensible argument reminding Bandou that this hour is designated as his nutrition break away from labor, not when a stupid joke is ripe for the plucking. Warren steps out of his beat-up, utterly embarrassing clunker of a vehicle. Ever seen a vampire in tan sweatpants? Now you have. He honks the horn. Yes, it's still la cucaracha.]

~🎵

[The matching amber hoodie proclaims in a sultry red font: blood is my love language.]