Sector 98-A, Neutral Space
The Milky Way Galaxy
2398
The silence was nearly as agonizing as shouting would have been. Sebastian looked at Tiff, his brow furrowed so intensely that it would have worked as a rain gutter. Finally, he spoke: "...and?"
"And?" Tiff
gabbled
at him. "I...just said I might like girls! This is big! This is huge! I'm...I..." She paused, then frowned. "Are you laughing?"
"Sorry, I shouldn't," Sebastian said, his chuckles choked back with a clear effort of will. He closed his mouth and brushed his fingers through his hair. "It's just, well, you speak English that's so close to modern English -- albeit with some oddities."
"I don't not speak no odditisms with my Americanese!" Tiff said, half angry, half amused.
Sebastian did chuckle now, openly, his fangs glinting. "It's just hard to remember, sometimes, that you come from the cisnormative Dark Ages." Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "Until I met you, I dated more
men
than I dated women. I may have been a..." He coughed. "A virgin, but that didn't mean I didn't date. And I usually dated men. Most of the men on this ship have dated men and most of the women on this ship have dated women. Even if they decide it's not their ...ah...preference later, there's no stigma in experimentation. Or in inclination.'
Tiff gaped at him. "Bruce dated a guy?" she asked.
"Bruce is less of a
dating
gentleman and more of a..." Sebastian waved his hand, as if he was groping for a term. "More of a...uh...after action report athleticism sort." He coughed. "If you know what I mean."
"Adrenaline junkie, got it," Tiff said. Then she put her hands over her face and dropped down onto the balls of her feet, her knees pressing to her chest. "The future is
weird
!" She wheezed out. It wasn't quite that she was
upset
at the idea of Sebastian kissing boys. Or dating boys. Tiff wasn't a bigot. At least, she didn't
think
she was a bigot. But it was one thing to watch a TV show and to see a guy on the screen then, bam, he was gay. Like in that episode of the Simpsons where Homer met the guy who worked at the kitsch store. She expected...like...
She didn't know what she had expected. But she was feeling a spider crawling feeling all over her skin and she was worried that it had more to do with
her
than with the
future
. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to get her heart to stop racing and her stomach to stop flip flopping. Sebastian stepped over, kneeling down beside her. His hand slid along her back and he spoke, softly. "Are you okay, Tiffany?"
"I don't know!" Tiff slid her hands away from her face. "W-What if I'm a bigot? But...I'm from
California
."
Sebastian opened his mouth, closed it, looked as if he was reconsidering the first thing that he was going to say. Instead, quietly, he said: "Listen, Tiffany. It has been settled science for centuries that human beings, all human beings, sort the other into boxes. We're just not very good at dealing with specifics when there are trillions of specifics. Instead, we lump them into general terms. That's why, across the galaxy, you will find animals we call wolf, cat, slug, tree." He shrugged one shoulder. "It doesn't matter if they're on a different planet with a completely divergent origin. We still sort them into boxes. Humans do that to themselves too." He caressed her hair, his fingers silk smooth and slightly cool. It was oddly comforting, considering how many times similar fingers had been locked around her throat. Tiff leaned into him ever so slightly and let the Ensnarement hold her tightly.
"We're
all
bigots in some way. The trick is to recognize it in yourself, then decide to consciously reject it. It's not evolution and it's not magic. It's a daily, continual effort. And we still fail. Every damn day." He kissed the top of her head.
Tiff blushed and nodded. "R-Right." She scowled. "You're only four years older than me-"
"I thought," Sebastian started to speak over her.
"-how are you so frigging smart?" She headbutted his shoulder, causing his foot to slip out from under him and dump him onto his back. Sebastian scowled up from the floor at her.
"I thought," he said again, all aggrieved and cattish. Tiff bit her back her smile. "That you were declaring yourself to be four hundred and eighteen years old, not eighteen. Something about getting into bars?"
"Right!" Tiff pumped her fist. "I'm, like, ninth generation compared to you."
"That's not how generations work!" Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're the
Hunter
, I can understand why the average...see...a vampire's
generation
is based off how far they are removed from Lilith, the first vampire. If I was sired by Lilith yesterday, I'd be 2
nd
generation, and if someone was sired by by..." He trailed off, then scowled. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"
"A little," Tiff said, grinning. "Christian made me go through all those frigging generation charts and power levels until I was bored to tears." She paused. "How is that shit handled now? Like, back in the day, the Cam had the older generations just ran the show."
"It's democratic now," Sebastian said, then shook his head, sitting up. "Antediluvian -- third generation that is-"
"I know what an Annydellvo is..." Tiff muttered, leaning down to bump her head against Sebastian's chest, pressing him back down onto the deck. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, feeling some of her tension resolve. Not only was he
not
mad that she had flirted with a sexy shark lady, he'd also...well...he'd put it all very reasonably. It made her feel like she'd been wrung out, all the tension bled away in a big old anticlimax. And considering how some of her previous frank, fraught discussions with boyfriends had gone, this was a fucking relief.