"Everybody loves me," Tanner complains, kicking his feet up over the leather chair's arm- his head slumps back, eyes trailing over the patterns painted on the ceiling. "It's honestly exhausting at this point."
Gazor, sat cross-legged on the sofa near the chair, gives a non-committal hum as he glances up from his book to look at his albino boyfriend. "Somebody somewhere will hate you, Tanner. Somebody, somewhere- you- loves me despite this infamy in... United States."
(Tanner suppresses a snort as Gazor wrinkles his nose slightly, as if the name of the nation was some dastardly swear).