"Yes. About you. I don't have much more tolerance than Alex for other people being gooey in front of me or for badly written subplots in movies."

"Well that makes me feel all proud 'n special."

"Good."

"Long as you're happy," snorts Alex, looking ceilingward.

"Anyway," he starts, "are you a switch?"

"...Who, me? No."

"Oh. Huh."

Sigh.

He looks at Isabella and blinks.

"What, pet?"

Shrug. "Dunno, ma'am, what were you sighing about?"

Shrug. Pet pet. "It's not polite to question people's presented roles," she points out.

"Sorry, Alex," he says.

"'sfine."

"You did ask about mine when we met, though," he comments, looking up at Isabella.

"You weren't presenting clearly as anything. You have short hair and you also obviously took one look at me and got hit over the head by a crush the size of the moon."

"I suppose," he says. "I didn't get the actual crush until about ten minutes into the conversation, though, I just found you incredibly sexy at first."

"Sure. But doms don't, as a rule. So."

"I suppose," he repeats, and shrugs.

"If Alex ever goes gooey-eyed over a dom I promise you can question him then."

"Oh my god Bella."

She sticks out her tongue at her brother.

"Bella?"

"I went by Bella when I was a kid. I figure Isabella sounds dommier but Alex and our parents still call me that."

"I would like to reiterate: Most. Adorable. Dom."