"Yes." She shrugs. "He has not thought of me in that way. Beyond a single vulgar remark, once."

"He'd fuck you now, if you wanted," says Queenie.

"Perhaps. I do not think it would clarify the question. It does not seem to be a distinguishing characteristic of mine."

"A - a clarification of that would make good hearing."

"It's weird that there's only the one word," says Queenie, "when there's more different kinds of love than there are people. But the way your sweeties love you is a little like the way they love each other, and a little like the way we all love each other, and a lot like the way we love our sweethearts - those of us who have 'em."

"I have not previously heard the assertion that loves are more numerous than lovers," observes Sarion. "Nor am I familiar with attempts to compare the kinds to one another."

"Yeah, and?" says Queenie.

"And so my puzzlement has not been much clarified."

"If I knew what you were puzzled about, maybe I could help."

"If I am told that I resemble my mother, and also my father but less so, partial lists of the resemblances are often forthcoming."

"Can't really help you there. Just 'case I know what it feels like doesn't mean there's words for it."

"Oh."

"You could always ask your sweeties."

"I know how they love me. They've shown me. I do not know what else this should tell me. Perhaps nothing."

"But they know how the rest of us love our sweethearts, and unlike me, they can show ya."

"Oh. That is true. Perhaps it would be instructive."

"Could be," Queenie agrees.

Snuggle.

Snuggle-hug!

And Sarion's sweetie emerges from the orgy chambers.

Sarion decides it is time to try her new and much improved connection to them. She broadcasts a greeting to him, and a summary of her conversation with Queenie so far. And she opens up her listening.