Vale is... cute.

I'm sure he prefers to think of himself as knife-edge sharp, elegant, with his catwalk wardrobe and expensive haircut. The truth is, he's about as adorable and cuddly as a tiny blond plushie. It's easy to see how he can live off his looks - he's certainly got them to spare. I can't believe how smooth his skin looks, or how soft and gold his hair is. It's as if he's air-brushed. I'm sure he'd glitter like pure gold in sunlight. As it is, he glows under the softer light of lamps and candles. I can't wait until I see what he looks like under strobes and neon. The reaction he gets from the locals in the club should be amusing.

Something else that's cute is how demure and polite he's being. I have to respect the amount of control he has over his facial expression - he's very good at remaining aware of my gaze at all times, and he's all smiles, pleasantly surprised, very happy to be here, isn't it lovely? But there's been a few instances when his awareness slipped, and his expression faltered. It's understandable, really. If the culture shock he's feeling right now is anything akin to what I feel when I visit my aunties in Louisiana, in a town where there are only two streetlights and the nearest thing to a restaurant is the BP over on the highway, then I'm surprised he hasn't said anything yet. Right now, he's willing to be pleased. It almost makes me want to say or do something to piss him off.

We did go out to eat, to the local Outback, which is the closest place I could think of that doesn't need reservations and still serves a decent rare steak. Vale's not bad at all when it comes to pretending to eat and drink. I take some of the credit, though, I probably ate at least half of his dinner as well as my own.

Wichita, like most cities, is prettier at night than by day. I'm sure it's quite placid compared to L.A. but the river and the parks are pleasant to drift through. Huh. Romantic dinner and a moonlit walk by the water. Jesus, next I'll be bringing him roses.