Sore Loser

"And that was the time," Minoth's voice trailed back into Nia's head, as she detected the familiar cadence of a happy ever after, "that Addam and Flora decided I should stop staring and do something about it."

"Well, and congratulations on your being bisexual," Nia grumbled. She didn't begrudge him, or at least knew that she shouldn't, but for the dear departed Architect's sake, who cared? We get it, already, you like women. And men, but that part was obvious.

"Thank you," said Minoth, after a beat. He was peering at her out of the corners of his eyes, scar wrinkled with neutral caution. "I think I did pretty well with it."

Nia said nothing. If she knew why she was feeling snappish, she was of course in no mood to reveal it. If she didn't know, then she didn't want Minoth, of all people, helping her figure it out.

(Didn't she?)

So Minoth sighed, rapped his knuckles on the table twice, and stood up to clear the dishes. Normally, Nia would have automatically jumped to help him, on account of his being ancient and decrepit and old 'n' all, but just now she was still grumbling softly and unintelligibly to herself, so she just stayed with cheek propped in palm, leaning diagonal more and more with every passing second.

It couldn't be internalized biphobia, or whatever, because she didn't think what Minoth was doing - had done - was wrong, per se. She just thought it was annoying.

Maybe annoyingly lucky? The joke had often been made, among those fortunate enough to have access to archival photographs and self-possessed enough to enjoy them, that if you walked into a pub and the late lord and lady of Aletta were standing at the bar with their strange cat-dog-wolf-beast at their side, you'd probably duck and hide your face, for fear of embarrassing yourself in the presence of such overwhelming charisma.

Maybe it was just annoying that someone so annoying as Minoth had been chosen by god to receive two such wonderful partners.

But, then, Nia thought everyone was annoying. Nia certainly thought Rex was annoying - and very charming, too.

"Reminds you of a certain someone," she said, to no one (and everyone) in particular.

Without missing a beat, Minoth shut off the tap and replied, "These things do tend to happen, when you're a Flesh Eater whose Core is red and blue."

Actually, it wasn't red and blue. It was pink and blue, thank you very much, like her candy stripes. If you were purple, like Minoth, then you were bisexual, and easy about it (like a well-behaved horse). If you were red and yellow, like Nia, you didn't know what you were.

"But Rex isn't gay."

"I thought he loved all you guys."

Nia stopped to wonder if Minoth hadn't, in fact, been there. But this, of course, she surely would have remembered, owing to the multiplicate presence of the phantasms who could remind certain someones of certain other someones even more easily.

(She didn't like to get in the way of those dopey-eyed gazes when Dromarch remarked about healing properties, and hearts and bodies and souls.)

"Well, and he does. Platonically. Some people thought that was very funny, when I mentioned it."

(Some people was Gorg, for the pure irony. Otherwise, he really didn't care.)

"Rex couldn't be pansexual?" And polyamorous, too.

"Rex could be anything he wants. I think he wants babies, actually."

"Aren't you all a little young for that?"

"I mean someday."

"With you?"

Now Nia looked, and saw Minoth's eyebrow criminally far risen. Well, yes, Rex probably felt a greater romantic connection with her than he did any Buttercup or Bluebell from Leftheria that he'd had to half raise, thanks to the astonishing art of parentification (talk about the reverse invocation of a mommy girlfriend), and his dual personal-professional life was much more intricately and intimately intertwined with Nia's than it was or would ever be with anyone from back home. So that all just made sense. Someday.

What Minoth was asking, then, it appeared, was quite simple: "Aren't you gay?"