[He's almost talking to himself at this point, because he's having a secondary crisis right now. If he'd make out with Taako, who's technically not human, does that still fall under bi? Is that more of a pan thing? Like, hypothetically if you make out with an elf and you're a human does that just make you into xeno or is that quantifiable in the word you use to describe yourself?
Fuck 'em, Connor. Fuck 'em.]
Queer. [He's too stressed out to have this navelgazing moment right now.] I like . . . whatever, theoretically.
[That he keeps ending up with male-identified beings has no bearing on the fact that he would also make out with Lup, if she wasn't like. A sister? A fun aunt? It'd be kinda weird, is the point.]
It's not. I don't talk about it.
[He's brushing his fingers through his hair nervously, over and over like he doesn't realize he's doing it. Nobody needed more ammunition against him. They didn't need the confirmation that anything they said was true, and he didn't owe it to them.
. . . He doesn't know why he's kept doing it here. Habit, maybe? The lingering fear that anything he's built would crumble if anyone found out? It all seems so small now.]
no subject
[He's almost talking to himself at this point, because he's having a secondary crisis right now. If he'd make out with Taako, who's technically not human, does that still fall under bi? Is that more of a pan thing? Like, hypothetically if you make out with an elf and you're a human does that just make you into xeno or is that quantifiable in the word you use to describe yourself?
Fuck 'em, Connor. Fuck 'em.]
Queer. [He's too stressed out to have this navelgazing moment right now.] I like . . . whatever, theoretically.
[That he keeps ending up with male-identified beings has no bearing on the fact that he would also make out with Lup, if she wasn't like. A sister? A fun aunt? It'd be kinda weird, is the point.]
It's not. I don't talk about it.
[He's brushing his fingers through his hair nervously, over and over like he doesn't realize he's doing it. Nobody needed more ammunition against him. They didn't need the confirmation that anything they said was true, and he didn't owe it to them.
. . . He doesn't know why he's kept doing it here. Habit, maybe? The lingering fear that anything he's built would crumble if anyone found out? It all seems so small now.]