you genders do have your uses, i suppose

"I hate to admit it, Minoth..."

There are lots of things Addam hates to admit. He's not prone to pride, but he is prone to shame, or abashedness, anyway.

Minoth, however, is quite prone to pride, and only selectively admits when he's gotten something wrong.

In fact, that's the rub: Addam doesn't like admitting things about himself, while Minoth just plain hates fessing up. Unless it makes him look good, or feel good, or something else of the sort.

So Minoth quirks a brow when he hears this from Addam. "Oh?"

"I really do wish you'd stop calling me your prince all the time."

"Oh."

"All the time, I said!" Addam is hasty to correct, still remaining good-natured. "Because I don't always feel like a prince."

Minoth snorts. "I know that," inflection ticking up with each syllable.

But Addam frowns: "Not that I necessarily feel like a princess, either."

If it's to be something about the way Addam runs, sort of...chest-first, so to speak, Minoth could buy it easily. And he will, with Addam's money.

He'll buy in to shooting the breeze, and the possibilities. Not a rough wind, but a gentle suggestion upon a gold complexion.

"You'd like to take a woman's prerogative, now and then?"

"I would," agrees Addam, and Minoth admires how the lines of her undereyes, as well as those about the corners of her eyes comparable to the talons of a Puffot, frame those steadfast golden windows to something probably pretty like heaven.

It doesn't surprise him that Addam should suggest something like this. He's happy to find that it doesn't disappoint him, either. Perks of being bisexual, right? Even if he'd always experienced a prominent preference for men.

Surely, Minoth reassures himself, he'd still love Addam for their giving ways and absolute beauty should the monarch-in-eternally-patient-waiting not identify in particular strength with either that creature woman or that fascinating animal man.

Nay, Addam never could lose posession of that fairness they have owned ever since Minoth first laid eyes upon them.

She's whimsical. She's a delight for sensibly-minded women and a torment for reasonably-attracted men. Lively, young.

He's maximal; his laughter a shout, his perturbation a storm. Their changing course about their unnatural destiny never could err, except that it must, and it does, for all Minoth has seen Addam at his worst, he also continues to see Addam at their best.

But one pressing question remains, to tie up all these assumptions: "And so, which is it today?"

Addam grins, wide and clear as a summer's day. (Shall I compare thee?) "Man, I feel like a woman!"