“You are going to give Andromeda ten tiny frogs.” It’s not even a question. How dare he bring this energy into my presence. “Everyone deserves tiny frogs.” “Where are my tiny frogs? I want all the colors. I will line them up on my desk beneath my monitor,” he says absently, finding his bee on the foot of my bed. I stare at the large man, who seems genuinely pleased to have found his bee as he sets the bag of yarn down so he can cuddle it. Again, he is too precious for words.

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