aesthete

"It doesn't matter," Taion felt the need to preface. Prefaces were useful, often instrumental. Prefaces were not stumbling disclaimers and crutches; they were simply another form of the appropriate constructions of sentiment.

One makes a preface to organize information, not to discount it. It's just that sometimes the information being organized is the discount.

And Gray organized himself by omission, most often, so perhaps it went to prove...

"Then don't say it," replied Gray, but he remained seated nonetheless. Taion thought he could perceive the faintest twitch in the stone of Gray's unsmiling smile lines, something that said he really was about to get up and leave but apprehended some uncredited impulse guiding him to display...patience.

Taion was thankful for the notion, obviously, but it also obviated the possibility of Gray making his decision for him, that he wouldn't have to state his unimportant business at all. Two sides can decide a decisive battle, et cetera.

"Well." He inhaled, reflexively closing his eyes. "In my observation, the City encourages young people to find partners of the opposite sex, for the purposes of procreation. But, supposing a young person is not...interested in doing so. How are they meant to proceed?"

Without swallowing or clicking his tongue in his teeth, Gray said, "You think I'm gay."

"N-no, I-- I feel that you are best suited to advising on strategic, er, social manoeuvres, in your domain of expertise, and I--"

"'S fine. I don't care. Rozana's not a beard."

"...she's what?"