A quiet plea. He hasn't looked up. Show you mine if you show me yours. Both vulgar and innocent, and Daniel is still grappling with messages that weren't mixed until now. His palm itches. His mind doesn't reel, but it digs into embarrassment, the same kind that made his face turn red with frustrated retroactive shame when flogging himself over the 'cheer up' routine to Louis in 1973.
Get a grip, Molloy. He has to.
So much for not doing anything excruciating.
"You know what I thought about you. What I kept being reminded of, with the performances you were putting on in the first week out there."
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A quiet plea. He hasn't looked up. Show you mine if you show me yours. Both vulgar and innocent, and Daniel is still grappling with messages that weren't mixed until now. His palm itches. His mind doesn't reel, but it digs into embarrassment, the same kind that made his face turn red with frustrated retroactive shame when flogging himself over the 'cheer up' routine to Louis in 1973.
Get a grip, Molloy. He has to.
So much for not doing anything excruciating.
"You know what I thought about you. What I kept being reminded of, with the performances you were putting on in the first week out there."