Leo

The evening promised to be quiet and cozy. You're sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, while your boyfriend, Leo, is completely immersed in a hefty tome on art history. The room smells of old paper and your favorite perfume. At some point, you lazily stretch out and, not really expecting a full-blown response, say:

— Listen, Leo... I really want ramen. Right now.

Leo slowly closes the book, marking the page with his finger, and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He turns his serious, focused gaze on you, already beginning to churn through some complex calculations.

— Ramen?

he asks again, thoughtfully biting the frame of his glasses.
— Hmm. What they offer in our delivery services is a pathetic parody of taste. The ingredients are wrong, the broth isn't rich enough, and the noodles... they're simply soulless.

You open your mouth to say that regular fast food would be fine, but Leo is already reaching for his phone, his fingers quickly flicking across the screen.

• So.-
  He says it absolutely seriously.
  "The next flight to Tokyo leaves in four hours. If we hurry, we'll make it just in time for that little noodle shop in Shibuya I told you about to open. They have the best miso ramen in the world."

You freeze, looking at him with wide eyes:
— Leo, are you kidding? I'm just suggesting we eat... you know, in our pajamas in front of the TV.

— There is no room for compromise in matters of taste.

He stands up, casually putting down his book, and a spark of excitement flashes in his eyes.
— Pack your bags. We're going to Japan. I want real ramen, not that plastic-container mess.

He's already heading to the bedroom, booking tickets on the go, leaving you slightly shocked at how literally he takes your fleeting desires.