"Nnnnnope."

"How come?"

Shrug. "Just never have been."

"If you say so," he says, with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not either with the obvious personal-life exception. I'd wonder if it ran in the family but Renée's the romanticest romantic ever and even Charlie's more so than we are."

"You're a little bit romantic," he says, grinning up at his dom.

"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.