“Similarities are a valid basis for alliances, although those are rarely personal experiences. I believe most people use work oreducational experiences.” Regi was staring at the far corners of the room despite there being nothing interesting to look at.
“Humans can use comparisons to compete.” Dante had done that, sometimes in very crass and obscene ways, although that was not the sort of comparison Regi was talking about. Still, comparisons were comparisons. “I had two friends who were both very wealthy, and they used to argue about whose parents spoiled them the most. Growing up in a private boarding school I suppose that was inevitable.”
Regi frowned at him. “Spoiling is a term that denotes that food has become unhealthy.”
“We also use that as a term to suggest that parenting has become unhealthy because a parent has given their child so many material objects that they are no longer willing to work or appreciate what they have.”
Regi frowned so that deep wrinkles made his fur ripple. “Spoiling is perhaps the correct term to use.”
“I think so,” Dante agreed.
“Do you feel the need to either compete or find an alliance of similarity between our experiences—my mother and your father?”
Dante sighed. He wished it could be that easy. Sometimes he didn’t know how to talk to Regi, but that felt dangerous. “No. I don't understand what it meant for your mother to invest so much of her energy into her goddess, and you cannot understand the impact my father's willingness to use my mother's death in his campaign had on me. So I think it's best for us to both acknowledge that our parents could have done better and that we are both capable and strong beings despite that.”
“I attribute any success I have enjoyed in life to the influence of my fathers,” said Regi.
“And I had two older sisters who made sure I always knew that I was loved even when I was going out of my way to behaveas badly as possible out of some childish attempt to get revenge on my father.”
Regi tilted his head. “How would that provide revenge?”
“My father would do anything to have people admire him, so I made sure no one admired how he handled me.”
“An interesting tactic, one I likely would have used had I thought of it, but I went from attempting to be the greatest follower of Gavd to ever investigate a crime to deciding to leave the Empire. After I failed the Gavd tests and was turned away from his service, I was too focused on my own humiliation to think much on how my behavior would reflect on my mother.”
Dante couldn’t imagine that. Sure, he’d gone to Montana to get some sort of distance and prove his independence, but he’d never gone too far. He’d never left the country. Had he not been kidnapped by alien pirates, he might not have left Texas again. But then Regi was braver than Dante. “Did you have any idea what the Coalition would be like?”
“None. But I knew that none of them were aware of my humiliating defeat in the face of the Gavd tests. At the time that seemed enough. And while my choice has resulted in a life that I am proud of, as an adult I can admit that I would not want a young adult to follow my example.”
“I think doing things we would not want others to repeat is the defining trait of growing up.”
“Perhaps it is,” said Regi quietly. Then he shook free of some heavy emotion. “I should check on Ter to see if he has offended anyone new in the hours since we left the ship.”
Dante grinned. “At least with no other Kowri onboard, he only has a chance to offend people who are used to being offended by him.” Watching Ter when he insulted others was a unique form of entertainment. Since aliens didn’t seem to have invented television, Dante hoped Ter didn’t tone down his insults too much.
Regi huffed before turning toward the still-open door.
“Regi?” Dante called.
He turned to Dante. “Yes?”
Dante scratched the side of his neck and dug for the bits of courage he could find in his soul.
Regi took a step closer. “Is something wrong?” he asked with such concern that Dante felt a flush of attraction. He’d always fallen for the guys with a protective streak.
“I keep trying to find a reasonable way to bring up this topic, but I never can. Therefore, I am going to bring it up in an unreasonable way.” Dante took a deep breath and braced himself. “I am frustrated that you seem to retreat from any relationship that I would hope to have with you.” He wanted to keep staring at the floor or the dop bed where Peaches was curled around the smaller male, but he forced himself to look Regi in the eyes. “I enjoy your company—your touch—and I want to discuss that before you retreat into your work again.”
Regi blinked at him, and a voice in the back of Dante’s mind told him to take it all back, to accept whatever dregs of affection Regi might show him in passing. However, the words were out in the universe now, and he would not take them back, not when the frustration of this relationship grew every day. It was time to talk about what they were to each other.
Chapter Ten
Regi stood statue-still for long minutes before he triggered the door mechanism, making it close with a heavythunk. “I am not retreating. We spend a significant amount of time in one another's company, and given our political allegiances and our mutual desire to save Ter from the consequences of his own irrational temper, I imagine we will spend more time together.”
Dante scrubbed a hand over his face. “We spend time together in a crowd. The minute the two of us are alone in a room... it’s like you don’t want to breathe the same air.”
“The ship's air is regularly recycled to avoid gaseous off-product that is common in Coalition spaceports. So even though the outside air is fresh here, the mechanical systems still ensure that we breathe the same air,” Regi explained.
Dante couldn’t stay mad when Regi had such an earnestness in everything he said. “That was a metaphor.”
