R flinched back, the nickname - which in the past had made him nearly giddy with excitement, his stomach flipping over on itself and joy bubbling up like champagne inside of him - leaving a sour taste on his tongue and his heart drop. For a second he was back in that hallway, with that thing with his angel's face and voice, but he shook himself out of it and forced a grin. He flipped his sketchbook closed and set it aside.
"Mon ange, if I had known you were playing as well I would have insisted we be from the start. Come, sit with me - ah, though, first, one question, strange as it may be: what did I get you for Christmas when we were seven?"