than when he allowed himself to be most himself. When he was most himself, he ran the constant risk of being entirely Too Much. The kind of Too Much that could get the literal shit kicked out of you. “I know, I know,” Dex said. Pop the moment, he thought. Pop it like a balloon. “Just another needy queen, begging for attention.” Rabbit’s white-gloved hand slipped into his own and squeezed. “You’re astonishing,” he said. Dex wanted desperately to believe him. But that would have required believing it himself first.
