"You're like me," the poet replies. "Pickles loves me, and he's crazy, so you may be right." He sighs a little, part in happiness at the thought and partly missing his husband. "So um.. hey. I sort of assumed you'd know everything about me from... um... me, but uhh... is there anything you want to know?"
He doesn't want to keep talking about families just yet. Not the ones they share, anyway.