It always feels meaningful, when Armand shares these jagged pieces of himself, whether they're stories of the past or the present, whether they're poorly remembered fragments or honest excavations of his own soul. Daniel treasures them, longs to make them into their own book - not for anyone else, not to publish, just so he'll always remember exactly how Armand said everything even in ten, a hundred, ten hundred years.

He crooks a smile at that last thing. "Yeah. Me too." That's easy enough - Armand has all of him, and he has all of Armand. It should be harder and scarier to agree to that than it has been.

Marriage, though.

"I think I'm almost hung up on the term more than the experience," he ruminates. "Marriage is this whole big thing, this set of expectations and traditions and symbols. You want me to say I'm yours forever? I am. I don't need the altar for that."