Well Ryan, you got me. After years of photoshopping your face onto zombies, next to mole people and as a character in my very own western FMV game here we are again, 1000% zoomed in on that beautiful mug as I code this page. A contorting sag of skin, freckles and sweat that bubbled every emotion to its natural gestalt. I never knew a man more irate, lovable, drunk, bored, ecstatic or nervous than you. Others probably were, but their presentation couldn't keep up.
What the fuck did you put in your hair? Some sort of grease or pomade I imagine. Either a fancy product or a cooking lubricant wouldn't have surprised me. Whatever it was gave your curly tumble a slick that was made for the dancehall. Damnit... that dancing! The nimble, frantic hops of a con man celebrating his final big score. The right song came on, of course we're dancing.
Most will remember you in sweaters or a polo. There were four or five of them in constant rotation. Solid swathes of fabric stained by food, sweat and liquor, left to bake until just right under studio lights. Those who knew you better will remember bright terry cloth robes and bare feet, because of course Ryan Davis wore a god damned robe around his house. Even in the minutia of relaxing, you had to show us just how much better at it you were than the rest of us.
In the end though it was always the laugh that grabbed us. A great guffaw of wind which knocked down any walls or awkwardness between strangers. You of course were always the funniest one in the room, everyone knew it and no one debated it, but your real gift was making those around you feel like partners in the joke. A member of a team.
You will be missed.
PS: I realize Ryan would wince at how god damned serious all this is, so I'll just leave you with this link to the ending of rollerball. It's probably even more corny and serious.