[Until the baneful rule of Summer Warren will be a steady fixture hovering around Bandou's supper hour. Like the hoodie's delicate cursive says, food is a love language. Perhaps it's some remnant of Warren's upbringing in the Old World ways (in his babushka era). The cold of Winter encourages reliance on hearty carbs to fight sickness. He wants to see his favorite slender young man thrive against the tendency for colds and flu to insidiously spread this time of year.

If Bandou had wanted to stay mad, he could have. The consequence could have included pinched cheeks...or kissed cheeks. The way Bandou responds to honest desire is heartening; they share that need. Even if Warren doesn't show it as openly, he needs to be told he's wanted too.

The look in his eyes becomes soft and affectionate. One more first to claim until they've all been gathered to his chest like a vibrant eternal bouquet.]

I cherish each one more than you can imagine. Your precious feelings are what fill my black heart, Saburouta.