The idea of love languages is bogus, and was invented by a freakish pastor in a desperate attempt to assure worthless right-wing men that their shitty habits are justified and loving— but let's pretend. What is Daniel's? He's wondered this about himself before. The conclusion he keeps coming to is he's just a shit guy who not even a self-help relationship book can diagnose, because all the answers he coughs up are 'nagging' and 'procurement of details', and like, who gives a fuck.
Louis is a provider, and he's attentive, and generous. Daniel doesn't think there's a single thing he could get him, especially not in Ohio.
He picks up a postcard. It has an unimpressive photo of the downtown Columbus 'skyline', and in big, loopy lettering, says, At Least It's Not Cleveland!, and in turn, it is at least not the other postcard Daniel considered, which was just a vintage photo of a naked woman. Lestat and every member of the touring band has autographed the back of it. Daniel sets it on the coffee table while he investigates the box, the box, what's in the box, oooo.
Is the power source fucked? Does it turn on, or is Daniel going to have to send it to a guy he knows? He's still digging through things when Louis arrives, and—?
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Louis is a provider, and he's attentive, and generous. Daniel doesn't think there's a single thing he could get him, especially not in Ohio.
He picks up a postcard. It has an unimpressive photo of the downtown Columbus 'skyline', and in big, loopy lettering, says, At Least It's Not Cleveland!, and in turn, it is at least not the other postcard Daniel considered, which was just a vintage photo of a naked woman. Lestat and every member of the touring band has autographed the back of it. Daniel sets it on the coffee table while he investigates the box, the box, what's in the box, oooo.
Is the power source fucked? Does it turn on, or is Daniel going to have to send it to a guy he knows? He's still digging through things when Louis arrives, and—?