He is unaware, or so it would seem, of the vast array of emotions these single uttered words had caused within the woman, the man truly oblivious, for the most part, as to the potency of such a phrase- though whether he has even understood it remains to be seen as whatever taints of understanding exist within him rapidly slip from his conscious thought and he is simply left staring with some confusion at the world around him. He does not remember speaking, much less the words he has offered her as his lips leave her own, shaggy black hair tumbling back into his gaze as those fathomless dark eyes peer momentarily about in confusion before his strange mind seems to dismiss it entirely- attention returned in full to the curly haired woman before him as he demands to know the meaning of the words she has offered him. It is rare, truly, for the man to seek understanding from those around him, some part of him...reluctant, it would seem, to present these gaps in his knowledge, surely unaware that they are more than obvious to anyone given to spend any amount of time in his presence. To his mind however, they surely remain hidden, it is his trust of the woman alone that allows him this moment perhaps, demanding she offer him this knowledge he lacks in regards to the word she has offered, head tilting as she attempts to explain it, dark eyes held upon her own. He trusts her to tell him the truth, he trusts she will not lie to him nor laugh at him for asking, head tilted slightly as she speaks.

Love is a word he remains unfamiliar with, his mind so seemingly incapable of processing it to it fullest extent as those wide dark eyes rest upon her own, the woman so softly attempting to explain, breaking down each piece to offer it towards him and allow his fractured mind to seize upon it. Her mention of 'like' he understands, the boy given to like many things- though indeed they are often given to relate to food or toys or those few beings around him he has come to value through his belief of his possession of them. He understands favourite in perhaps the same manner, the boy given to favour others, as he favours colours or places within which to sleep. This he understands, favourite is best, the one that is better than others, the one he likes the most of all the things he likes as his features contort into a frown and his mind continues to turn it over as he struggles to perceive the explanation offered towards him.

"My most....favourite.....is the one I....love?"

His voice holds question now as it stumbles and trips from his lips, gaze resting upon her still, seeking some sense of assurance and that he is correct in his assumption having placed together these meanings as best he can, pausing only long enough for her to assure him he is correct before it seems his mind has become fixated upon his ever pressing need to eat. The argument, it would seem, has become all but forgotten within his mind, as if it had failed to exist though surely some part within him remembers all the same. Her question in regards to what sort of meal he would like sees a ready grin touch his features.

"Make it! I want....all the things!"

He is already moving towards the door with his declaration, long legs carrying his skinny, ungainly frame forward before he turns abruptly back, dark eyes falling upon his companion.

"Birdie, hurry!"

That she is not nearly moving fast enough remains to be seen as he hurries from the door, racing down the stairs and hurriedly towards the kitchen, leaving Birdie to follow in his wake as he seats himself on the stool beside the bench, fingers drumming against the counter top in imitation of someone he has seen, waiting with evident delight for Birdie to catch up and make him 'all the things' he has thusly declared should be made- dark eyes resting upon her now. The woman he has so declared he will one day marry.

madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push