You are a orful naughty girl, he pouted reproachfully.

[…] and bold with joy, Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place (Portentous sight) the owlet, ATHEISM, Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close, And, hooting at the glorious sun in heaven, Cries out, “where is it?”

It tugged at my heartstrings with Steve's memories, as well as giving me so many Stony feels.

But he was still Vinnie, crying like a big baby, golden still, and still loving his honeybunny.