"Oh. I like both but most people around here think that's gross."

"Most people think not being straight is gross yeah. It was part of why my father—uh, anyway. Puberty should be coming around any day now, I'm pretty sure. I've been told." Shrug. "—wait, what were you thinking about, if it wasn't me turning into a girl that did it?"

He is still not looking.

"If you could give yourself a horse prick. Always thought they looked like they were having fun."

Sadde lets out a startled laugh and starts coughing with presumably spit he choked on.

Xan pats him on the back.

"You don't have to maintain eye contact, by the way," he mentions. "I don't care whether you see my dick in its locked and upright condition."

"I know you don't care but it feels—weird. ...I don't know why either. Maybe one of those things about society."

"Society can fuck itself. But you can do what you want, I'm not going to force you to admire it, I just wanted to mention."

"I know but I don't like having things that don't make sense in my head." He forces himself to look.

Curved. Larger than average, from what Sadde may have seen of his yearmates. Uncut; Sadde may or may not know how unusual that is given the milieu.

Sadde does not know how uncommon that is, what with being British. He does not blush, but he does kind of have to hold his gaze there.

And...

"...okay, maybe puberty is not that long away."

"Oh, is that what the funny feeling was? Do I tickle your fancy?"

He rolls his eyes. "I met you half an hour ago, I don't know if you tickle my fancy. I'm objectifying you."

"Fair enough. For what it's worth you seem pretty great and if you'd like to have fun at some point in the future I certainly wouldn't object."

"Not that far into puberty, thank you." He adjusts his trousers. "...have you done that with anyone before?"

"Couple of times. No kissing, but I've done some mouth stuff. Boys from school wanted to see what it was like and they knew I was game."

"Why no kissing?"

"That would've been queer."

"...and the other stuff isn't? And that's a weird word, what's this, the eighties?"

"...the sixties, actually. 1964."

"—wait what?"

"It's 1964. What year was it when you were eaten by a giant snake?"

"Nineteen ninety-nine."

"We ever get out of Vietnam?"

"...er, I think so? I dunno, that's American stuff. But I think you lose the Vietnam War yeah."

"Probably had it coming. But yeah, welcome to the sixties. It's shit. Hopefully we can get the fuck out of here and escape to the turn of the millennium, that sounds grand."