“ you are, ” he tells her, “ absolutely IMPOSSIBLE to shop for, did you know that ? ” it’s an admonishment ––– or at least, on paper, it’s an admonishment. in reality, it’s a bit hard to call it that, with dimples slicing through skin on either side of his mouth. if danny had some sort of manly reputation to uphold, daisy would have shattered it ages ago, with how much he smiles around her. luckily for them, danny’s never had some sort of manly reputation to uphold. “ i’ve never met anyone, ” he continues, now fiddling with the window of the town car, sending it up and down and up and down, “ who says ‘ i don’t want anything ’ and actually MEANS it. it’s so frustrating ! ” alright; now he’s just teasing, playing with her, dark eyes glinting warmly at her own. he rolls the window back up, though not fast enough to entirely mute the sound of music, of kids screaming with laughter, as they approach. “ SO I GOT TO THINKING, ” danny goes on, a little louder now, trying vainly to drown out the noise, to try and prolong the secret, “ about that time we talk about amusement parks, you know ? and how much you hate the ferris wheel, how i puked once as a kid after ward dared me to ride the slingshot, how much you loved coney island, and ––– ” he pauses, pretends to think. there’s that dimple again. a seatbelt unbuckles, he thanks his driver, politely, by name, and then opens the door to his right. there’s about the length of a city block from them to the park, where music blares and lights flash and children shriek in delight. danny’s brows raise, slightly, as he grins at her. “ and i figured we should test it out, you know ? see if you’re still afraid of heights, now that you can fly. see if the slingshot still makes me puke. ”