You’re different. You don’t look at him like he’s weird. Like he’s a being from another planet. And you don’t care about his smarts. You don’t care that he’s a genius, or that he’s odd, or that he’s… just different. You listen to his rants, no matter how weird they are. You listen to him talk about wanting to be a mortician, without saying it’s gross, or thinking he’s a necrophiliac.

Pope’s never admitted it, but that means the absolute world to him. You mean the world to him. He’d never admit it, but you complete him.