‘ I do, it’s a girls colour ’ but there is still appreciation for somebody like Dennis to wear it, especially when it’s paired against his silky skin. Dennis is every exception that he can think about and it turns those flips inside of his stomach into little butterflies - especially when he was happy. So often that smile was pealed from the features at the drop of a hat and so when it’s on there, permanent, the emotions are paralleled onto the older man’s features. He is grateful - Dennis should be able to see that in his face ‘ but you look great it in, Dennis, I promise. And you know I would tell you if you looked like shit ’
For a moment he is silent, his melancholy blue gaze gracing Mac with recognition. ❝ It’s not a girls color, you fucking idiot. If you actually attended a god damn history class at Saint Joe’s, you’d have known that. ❞ He’ll huff, straightening his spine. ❝ Pink was always a masculine color. Until a bunch of jerk moms in the nineteen-twenties decided, ‘oh look, I’m gonna dress my stupid daughter in pink for no god damn reason at all.’ And now, we have a huge disparity in our society. ❞ Dennis sighs dramatically, a slender hand pushing a stray curl from his forehead. ❝ Known as sexism. ❞
Standing from his seat, he’ll gingerly place a hand atop Mac’s solid shoulder, nails digging into the exposed window of tan flesh. ❝ A history lesson for ya’, Mac. You learn something new every day. ❞
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