"Sounds like a plan."

He rolls to the side so he's staring at the ceiling, his arms extended to his sides. He moves them as if he's making a snow angel.

She waves, and, after a bot confirms that no one is going to peer in and see a disheveled Sadde shirtless on his bed when she opens the door, departs.

"She's mid-fugue," says a guard bot.

Squirm. "How long 'til it ends?"

"I'll interrupt her at seven for dinner if she doesn't come out of it on her own before then. In a minor emergency I can interrupt her between bots in twelve minutes and in a major emergency I can interrupt her now."

He thinks about it for a full ten seconds before saying, "It's neither. I'll—can you email me when she's out?"

"Sure."

And in less than a minute he's at the door.

The bots let him in. Lorica's having a pita, with her helmet slightly flipped up but not off as usual. "Hi?"

"Your dad is on the team," he moans.

"...Yeah?"

"How am I going to look him in the eye, oh god, he's going to know, what will I say, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"...You're going to not look him in the eye because he, like me, goes around in a souped-up motorcycle helmet all the time and the fact that he has eyes won't come up unless I bring you home for dinner; and I certainly hope you were not planning to say how many square inches of me you've now put your mouth on, say something other than that, but what are you imagining you have to say at all?"

His mouth opens and closes a few times, like it had earlier. "Nothing, I guess. It's just, I think usually when you kiss a girl you don't already know her father. Or work with him." Pause. Breeeeathe. "Not freaking out. I'm not freaking out. I'm cool. Cool."

"When we do get around to having the vocabulary conversation I think he's entitled to know if I have a boyfriend," she mentions. "At which time he may see fit to take you aside, note that if you hurt me and he doesn't manage to make you regret it the first time the Birdcage couldn't hold him, and then proceed to probably not mention it unless I express dissatisfaction of some kind."

"...okay. That's strangely comforting." Pause. "Um. Do you wanna have the vocabulary conversation? I mean, I didn't think it significant after the expectation conversation, but?"

"It's significant to the extent that Dad's entitled to know if I have a boyfriend and I don't really want to tell him if what I have is this person I kiss and boss around sometimes." Pause. "Oh, also, if it helps or something I'm not allergic to the word girlfriend or whatever gender-neutral version, the variety of straight I am doesn't care."

"...partner? Genderfriend? Enbyfriend? I'm cool with boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever really, mostly 'cause if you started calling me any of those I'd... be very happy, actually. That's an interesting fact about myself that I did not know until now."

"So, should I inform my dad I have a boyfriend?"

The grin that spreads on his face should make the answer obvious, but in case it's not: "Yeeeesss."

"He really may come be threatening at you," she says, "but for whatever it's worth as long as I don't require medical care of any kind after the fact I doubt that he'd follow through."