Chapter 10

For a time, there was nothing but tactility.

It was funny – a lifetime of being trained, often at the end of a whip and at the bottom of a boot, to touch a deeper, more ephemeral realm, and here Thale was, awash in the physical universe. He couldn’t think of the future or the past. There was only the now of Venn’s hair brushing against his cheek, of the salt of her sweat on his lips, of the scent of her arousal, of the tingling taste of her against his tongue. Her fingers, like five points of molten metal, pressed to his chest and she caressed him.

He was purring and he didn’t care.

Venn’s finger touched the join of his ear and his skull – and that contact point, unlike the others, drew him further away from the now and to the future. Her fingers were matte black fullerenes, spun carbon and miracles from an earlier age. Their touch sent a shiver crawling on his spine, but it also reminded him. She had lost that arm, fighting one of his only friends. A battle that she had won, over Enriquah’s dead body.

“So...”

Venn let the word hang. Her nose pressed to the side of his neck and she licked him, slowly. Thale couldn’t find any words to express what he was feeling – what word fit the melange of hatred and love that he felt at this moment?

“Mm.” He turned his head and her lips found the pulse point on his neck. After that tiny flicker of touch, Thale knew he needed to find the words. He cupped the back of Venn’s head, drawing himself back just enough to look, to really look at her. For so long, he’d hunted the scrapper 101g without really seeing her face. Just an occluded mask, a fog of digital static. Now, he knew the face – and it was the same face he’d looked on with such love, such longing.

“Thale, I...” She paused, then kissed his neck. Her teeth nipped him – a tiny, gentle spark of pain that made Thale want to hold her forever. He shook himself, trying to center his mind, trying to speak. He opened his mouth. To ask her why. Why had she and Quah crossed blades? The question died on his throat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Thale.” Venn’s eyes skittered away from his. “Why ... what are ... how are...” She trailed off.

Thale’s tongue darted along his lips. He realized that answering that question scared him to the marrow. “L-Let’s get dressed first.”

The dressing blurred by. Thale tugged on his gloves and felt that, for once in his life, they fit right and felt comfortable. The sense memory of Venn dragging them off with her teeth breathed a new life to his member – aching and eager. He looked at Venn and saw that she was dressed as well, her blade hanging from her hip, her clothing loose and functional. But it was her smile that struck him like a kinetic kill vehicle: Broad. Unassuming. Full of ... joy. There wasn’t a single calculation going on behind that smile. Even Adoran, even in his most private moments, had a snag to his lips – remembering the future that the two of them needed to navigate.

Venn was in the now.

And her now included that smile. For him.

Thale realized, at that moment, that he would gladly kill entire planets for her.

The starkness of that thought terrified him. So, he pointed at her threshold blade. “So, that’s your sword?” he asked.

Venn nodded. Her pony tail bobbed. Her cheeks darkened and Thale could count her freckles. He wanted to trace a constellation on her face with the tip of his tongue. He dragged himself to inanities: “It looks really familiar,” he said, nodding to the blade again. Then he cocked his head. The thought had come subconsciously, but now that he had spoken the words aloud, he took a second glance. Each threshold blade was, in essence, a river of mana that could be formatted into any weapon. Identifying one could be tricky. But the way that this one was constructed – the clunky edges, the protruding, physical button for the primary form – made his brow furrow and his ears slick back.

“Well, we did fight before,” Venn said, her voice holding the beginning of a giggle.

Thale looked into her eyes. He should have smiled. Instead, he just ... looked.

The silence immediately careened into awkwardness. Venn coughed.

“The mask had cameras,” Thale said. Idiot, why are you explaining this? She knows this! “Your talent, it...”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at obscuring,” Venn said. Her voice had an edge to it now. He was pushing her away, acting like a pedantic tutor. Stupid, Thale. Stupid. “You said so yourself. When you trained me. In our ... dreams.” She looked away.

Thale mentally kicked himself. He looked at the wall as the awkward silence came again. He could show her how he felt. He could sweep her into his arms. He could kiss her so hard and so fierce that the wall would feel it. Instead, his tail lashed from side to side.

“The Hegemony,” Venn broke into his thoughts. She was keeping her head on things that mattered. “Why are-”

Thale had a thousand responses to that. It ranged from fury to sorrow to confusion to hurt. He hated the Hegemony. It was his entire future, his entire world. He had killed for it and he had bled for it. His best friend and his lover – his lovers – were wedded to it by homeworld and oaths of fealty. He despised the Emperor. The Emperor held every shining tomorrow in his hands. And there were secrets still he yerned to know: The source of the prophecy surrounding Venn’s parentage, the reason why Lord Vorsoth wished to claim her, the true stories of the Hegemony’s beginning, all of it. He felt balanced on a knife’s edge.

But the rest of the question didn’t come. Thale blinked, and turned to find Venn, her eyes closed, lolling in the arms of a suited, masked figure. Thale reacted instantly, his sword springing into his hand, the blade exploding to life. He lifted it up, angling to thrust it through the helmeted figure – his lips curling in a snarl. But the mask whirred, clicked, and opened upwards, revealing the blond hair and blue eyes of Adoran.

His eyes were wide.

Thale gaped at Adoran. He froze where he stood, while Adoran slowly lowered Venn to the ground. Her head lolled to the side, showing where the microdart had impacted in her throat. Her chest still rose and fell, but she looked like she’d be out of it for a long, long time. Adoran stood. His voice was tight. “Thale,” he said. “Put the sword down.”

For a heartbeart, Thale’s fingers tightened on the hilt of his blade.

He lowered it with a jerk, sheathing it with a hiss.

Adoran looked down at Venn, then at him. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. His voice was steady and controlled, but his hands were shaking. Thale’s cheeks heated.

“I should ask you,” he said – a counter, as if this wasn’t a conversation. Adoran took a stop forward, careful to not tread on Venn’s outstretched arm. His finger jabbed at Thale’s chest.

“What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing?” Adoran rumbled. It was like distant thunder. Thale shrank away from the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice. His back pressed to the wall and his hands, of their own accord, slid into the pockets of his leggings. He looked away, unable to meet Adoran’s eyes. He didn’t feel like he could get enough air in his lungs.

“I ... I came to...” He let out a little growl. “I came to get revenge.”

“Revenge?” Adoran asked. “For Quah? You risked your ... you risked yourself to get revenge for Enriquah? You flew a single goddamned corvette through the entire flotilla of Atom City’s orbital guard?” Adoran grabbed onto Thale’s shoulder. “What if they had caught you, Thale! What would I say to my mothers: Oh, sorry, the love of my life got himself atomized by rebel ships.”

Thale ducked his head forward. Guilt gnawed at him.

Adoran leaned his forehead against Thale’s scalp. Thale swore he could feel the tears dripping down Adoran’s face. He could hear the faint sniffling of the other man. He whispered. “I’m sorry, I ... I didn’t know I’d...”

“That you’d what?” Adoran asked. “Cheat on me?”

“It’s...” Thale closed his eyes.

“Look at me Thale,” Adoran said.

Thale turned his head aside. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Thale ... if there’s still a future for us, look at me,” Adoran whispered. His hands slid along Thale’s shoulders, down to his wrists, into his hands. Their fingers laced together and Adoran squeezed and Thale wanted to fall into the comforting strength of him. He wanted to have Adoran hug him and, like all the times before, tell him things were going to be okay. He let it happen. His body pressed to Adoran’s and he looked into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Thale whispered. “I’m sorry, I ... I’m sorry.”

He buried his face against Adoran’s chest and Adoran’s arms closed around his back, holding him tightly. “Shh,” Adoran whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

Thale began to sob. Every bottled emotion, every word he’d wanted to say to Venn came roaring through him as he sniffled and bawled his eyes out against the broad expanse of Adoran’s chest. Adoran’s hands continued to slide along his body, caressing his back, sliding through his hair. Adoran made quiet shushing noises, soft words that could have meant anything. What he said didn’t matter. The fact he was there, that he was holding Thale, did. And once the storm of emotion had passed, Thale felt as empty and as fragile as an eggshell.

Adoran took a shuddering breath himself. “Who is she?”

“Venn,” Thale said.

Adoran clicked his tongue. “Ah.”

“I ... I’ve seen her. In my dreams,” Thale said, pressing his cheek to Adoran’s chest.

“For how long?” Adoran asked, his fingers coiling through Thale’s hair.

Thale gulped. “Months.”

Adoran put his hands squarely on Thale’s shoulders, then gently moved him away. It wasn’t a push. Not exactly. Thale clung to the fact it was gentle. That it wasn’t a harsh shove. But when Adoran looked him in the eyes again, Thale could see a deep hurt in those beautiful, sea-blue eyes. “It’s not that you had another lover, Thale,” Adoran said, his voice tight. “It’s that you didn’t tell me.”

Thale felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

“I couldn’t,” he whispered.

“Oh don’t tell me that crap!” Adoran said – his voice sharpened and raspy. “What...” He stepped backwards, turning away from Thale. He turned back, slapping his palm against his chest. “What did you think I was just offering to marry you for fun? For a lark?”

“No...” Thale whimpered.

“I put my future on the line by offering, even in private,” Adoran said. “My parents know how the Hegemony works. You don’t retain sovereignty in the face of a Hegemonic warfleet without knowing how things work, Thale! But they agreed, because two Liminal Knights serving as the Kings of Elthas would be a reign that was worth the risk of offering to a no name, common mutant.”

“I thought you didn’t care I was a mutant,” Thale said and immediately regretted it. That single sentence sounded like nothing but petulance and whining and reproach – like a sullen baby upset that his favorite toy had been taken. He wanted to grab onto the words and drag them back.

“I don’t care, Thale!” Adoran shouted. “But the Elector Counts damn well do! The Hegemonic Administrator does. Emperor goddamn Rehoboam does! I am a prince, I need to think about the future of my people. About their happiness. About their prosperity. If I could, I’d sign on with you and ... and Quah ... on a sundiver and slip off the Chain and see what is out there in the big black empty, but I can’t, and I thought you, of all people, would understand that, that you’d remember that, that you’d respect me enough to tell me what you ... when ... all of this!”

Thale ducked his head forward again.

Adoran put his hand over his face. “At least you’re alive. At ... at least we got her.”

Thale snapped his head up. “What?”

Adoran’s jaw was tight. “We got her. We got Venn. We can take her back to the Victrix aboard our stealth corvettes. We can finally get the retroviral treatment for you.” His hand cupped Thale’s cheek, gently. Adoran’s face relaxed as he smiled, slowly, at Thale. “We can have the future we always wanted. Prince Adoran Thale of Elthas, and his husband, Prince Adoran Adams of Elthas.”

Thale couldn’t breathe.

Somehow, he still spoke.

“No.”

Adoran shifted his stance. It was subtle. But it was there.

“No?” he asked.

Thale felt the entire world collapsing around him. A focal point, an FTL collapsar, focused on him and his decision. His hand started to drift down towards the hilt of his threshold blade. He’d thought, earlier, that he would kill an entire planet for Venn. But still, his hand shook. Adoran shook his head, subtly.

And then a hiss of an airlock door opening and the clatter of boots and clinking carabiners drew both their gazes. Around the bend came three Atom City troopers. They were in as advanced a set of armor as one could have while going up against Liminal Knights – carbon weave vests with thick semi-ceramic glacias plates for absorbing kinetic energy, with a spray paint of shining material for laser reflection. They carried rifles so mindbogglingly primitive that Thale half expected to see wood and bolt actions. But they lacked auto-targeting arrays and gryoscopic stabilization and smart bullets. All they had was chemistry and lead. Which was more than enough.

The three men fired. The chattering of automatic weaponry, imperfectly muffled by their silencers, filled the corridor as Adoran flung up his threshold blade, formatted into a broad riot shield. Bullets pinged and sparked off of it as he shouted: “Run!”

Thale clenched his fist and plunged the entire corridor into pitch blackness. He grabbed onto Adoran’s hand and they ran. The bullets stopped chattering and the men brought of the chemical flares. Sickly green light washed over them as they reached the corner and went around it, emerging into another corridor. Bullets hit the walls just behind them, and Thale heard voices coming from every direction. More Atom City troops, equipped and prepped to hunt down Liminal Knights like dogs.

“I have an idea!” He bellowed. Adoran nodded and Thale drew his blade. He twirled it as it hissed to life and he stabbed it down into the floor, then swept it in a circle. The floor plating collapsed under them and they fell down a level. Another cut, another drop. Sparks and steam and evaporating coolant sprayed from above them, and the cries and voices grew louder.

“We’re getting close to the skin!” Adoran shouted, shield lifted above his head to ward away sparks. A grenade struck his shield and Adoran angled it, a magnetic pulse flinging the grenade down an unremarkable corridor, allowing it to explode.

“I know!” Thale said.

He cut once more.

And they dropped.

Wind screamed at them – and then hard metal met his legs. Thale tried to roll, but Adoran landed atop him, smashing him into the curved edges of his corvette’s console. HE had no time to adjust himself. And so, he used his mind to send an emergency override to the acceleration controls. Acceleration gel flooeded the compartment and breathing tubes snaked out, reaching his and Adoran’s mouth just before the gel did. His eyes closed and he let himself forget his body. Instead, he was the corvette.

The antimatter engine roared to life as the wings caught the wind of Atom and he banked up and over the curving grace of the magnetodynamic tether station. Through the belly telescopes, he could see that several Atom City guards were helping a woozy looking Venn onto the roof, where their squat, ugly looking troop transport had landed. She was already arm in arm with a woman made of chrome and silver and steel. Venn’s head lifted and she looked at him.

In a flicker of laser light and spooky action at distance, their minds touched.

Thale ... she thought, muzzy and confused.

Venn, he thought back.

Don’t-

The scrab shaped transport unfolded a pair of mag-accelerated missile tubes. The rockets were conventional fragmentation, unguided and with a pre-set, mechanical time fuse. They shot from the tubes with a chuff chuff chuff, their engines exploding with flame and fury as they started to bracket the air around his corvette. Thale threw the corvette into a corkscrewing spin, bringing the com laser to bear. It flashed in a bracketing pattern, slicing rocket after rocket into bubbling slag. But more than a few got through and began to burst, sending out shotgun blasts of shrapnel. The armor plating of his corvette rattled like rain and several cold gas thrusters on the left wing flared red in his peripheral vision.

He felt Adoran’s thoughts activating the nose mounted railgun.

NO

The negation that boomed through the ship nearly shut down the magnetic bottle. Adoran’s presence shied away from the railgun – and then they were clearing the range of the troop transport.

I’m detecting a half a dozen antimatter cutters coming right at us out of a high orbit, Adoran said, his voice terse. They’re loading rockets – they’re coming in fast – 10kps!

Fuck, Thale snarled.

The mental image of the situation flared through him. Six antimatter cutters – each one essentially an elongated tube of hydrogen remass with a bottle of antiprotons to serve as energy source. Their weapons were as brutally simple as their drives: Missiles loaded with antimatter warheads, railguns, studded blisters of X-ray and UV lasers, most of them in the hundred mega-joule range. Those lasers started to play along the corvette’s hull, but Thale was tumbling and spinning so fast that they had no time to do more than ablate a bit of hull plating away.

Can I kill these assholes? Adoran asked, his mental voice holding an edge of grim amusement.

Yes, Thale thought.

The com-laser flared, providing a linkage to the enemy ship’s comptech. The squadron commander either didn’t believe or didn’t know about what a Liminal Knight could do – he had left the communications arrays only protected by combat ready firewalls. Without even fully paying attention, Thale could feel Adoran cutting through them as if they were tissue paper. He accessed the deeper command structures of the ships, where he could begin shutting down the containment fields for the antimatter drives.

Argh!

Adoran’s presence recoiled into the ship, flaring with pain.

Thale saw the dots representing the spread of antimatter missiles angling towards him.

What? Thale asked.

Something blocked me.

Thale felt the realization hit him like a brick.

Venn.

Venn was blocking Adoran’s abilities.

The missiles were within two hundred kilometers. He was burning Delta-V with a worrying speed – the corvette had immense amounts of Delta-V compared to most ships of similar size. But so much of it had been eaten up by the energy it took to escape the stubborn gravity of the massive Atom. Even using wings and ramjets to provide extra lift, he had next to nothing left for maneuvering, if he wanted to reach the star with enough Delta-V to engage an FTL jump.

Thale, I love you, Adoran thought.

And, in a rippling wave, the antimatter missiles exploded.

It only took one, really. A single twenty megaton warhead going off, especially in a missile formation like that, could fry the other missiles. But unlike nuclear weapons, which needed to detonate in a very specific way to go off, antimatter missiles exploded as if they meant to explode. The sky was filled with short lived, small stars – and the radiation wave and electromagnetic pulse swept through the corvette and the cutters. Both were hardened, but the static still washed through Thale’s ears like a scream.

He laughed. He had to.

Venn wouldn’t let him kill.

But she wasn’t going to let him die.

I’ve got them spoofed, Adoran said. Shut the engine down.

The acceleration faded and the cutters began to saturate an area of space several thousand kilometers away with proximity fused antimatter warheads. The flash and the flare struck the curved, stealth hulls – and whatever bounced back to the cutters, Adoran spoofed. Venn didn’t interfere.

They fell towards Atom City’s primary in microgravity, with the acceleration gel receeding back into the tank where it normally waited. The first few days were spent in spot checking and examining the direct interfaces. They weren’t normally designed to be exposed to acceleration gel – and doing so let the two men worry away hours between sleeping and eating without talking about anything more than technicalities. But the problem with not using constant acceleration, with drifting through space until one reached one’s destination, was ... simple.

Space was big.

And so, after every system had been checked, after the calculations had been done on the consumables aboard ship and it was confirmed that, even if Thale and Adoran would be cramped together in this cockpit for a few weeks ... they’d live.

Which meant that they were left floating in the cockpit, looking square at one another.

“Were you going to fight me for her?” Adoran asked.

Thale opened his mouth and closed it. Days of working with his hands, of focusing on the technical bits and pieces, left the memory of his time on the misty, hissing, clanking and clunking industrial antiproton factory feeling ... incoherent. Unfocused. He could remember the crackling of electromagnetically repelled blades. The taste of her sweat. Of her sex. The feel of her. But he couldn’t remember the logical A to B to C.

But that was because it wasn’t logical.

The lives of Liminal Knights rarely were. They slipped off the cold equation and cast the delicate balancing of ecology and economy into the heavens. They worked miracles and walked dead worlds, and carried blades of magic and potent wonder. And their stories were fraught with coincidence and portent. Thale drew his legs up under him, even if he was floating in microgravity, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I love her,” he said.

Adoran nodded, mutely.

“I love you,” Thale said. He was less ... harsh about saying that. Gentler.

Adoran smiled. “Concubinage?”

“What!?” Thale squawked.

“Venn of ... where is she from?”

“Nowhere,” Thale said.

“No one is from nowhere,” Adoran said.

“Stumble, “Thale said.

Adoran made a face. “Yeah, I can’t see the court appreciating Lady Venn of Stumble as our concubine...” He rubbed his chin.

“W-We’re not making Venn a concubine!” Thale exclaimed.

“Why not?” Adoran asked, arching an eyebrow. “It’s not a shameful position. Why, my godmother was my uncle’s concubine.” He smiled, brightly. “And it’d give me a chance to get to know her.”

Thale felt a fierce, protective, possessive snarling urge explode inside of him. His claws sprang from his fingertips and he hid them under his armpits. “No,” he said.

“Champion of the Realm then,” Adoran suggested. “We can give her one of the orbital fastnesses to ennoble her. Trebond-9081 is still unoccupied since the last heir of that line flew his hovertank into that UV laser artillery position.”

“She’s a rebel,” Thale said.

Adoran chewed his lower lip. “Hm.”

Thale wanted to say more. That they should be rebels. But Adoran shook his head. “We have to fix that. If she stays a rebel, she’s going to die.” He looked at Thale. “You know that, right? The Hegemony isn’t just winning – it’s won. This isn’t even the biggest or worst rebellion that it has crushed. The Republique had Wotan Hohmann fighting for it and it was glassed. The Alliance of Free Stars has a few holdfasts, Atom City, and what? A single half trained Liminal Knight?”

Thale wanted to respond with this was different. But it wasn’t. Was it. History didn’t change, just because the names were rubbed out and rewritten. He ducked his head forward and his tail twitched, imparting just a bit of spin to him. He tumbled, in slow motion, within the womb of his ship, and thought deep and he thought hard. Once he had completed one slow rotation, he reached up with one hand, hooking a claw on a protruding handhold to stop his spin.

“We don’t hurt her,” he said.

“We may have to,” Adoran said. “This is a war. And she did kill Quah.”

“I know, I...” Thale looked aside.

“Listen,” Adoran said. “I left my corvette behind on Atom. If we’re lucky, it fell into the core and was crushed. If we’re unlucky, the rebels just got access to a spindrive. If they put that on the Tiamat, it can race through the Chain. If Venn gets to Home, becomes a true Liminal Knight, if she completes this prophecy, whatever it is, then the Hegemony will glass entire planets to kill her. So, we have to run her to ground before it happens. We have to run her to ground, capture her, and ... convince her. As much as it hurts. We have to tell her that there’s no other choice.”

Thale looked out the window of the corvette. Out the projection of a hull camera, at least. He looked into the distant stars and he felt his heart tearing. He wanted to tell Adoran he was wrong. But in Adoran’s voice, he could hear the death screams of dozens of worlds. The Hegemony had worldkillers to spare and their names were legendary. Coventry. Tokyo. Dresden. San Diego.

His nod was curt.

“Okay,” he said. “And I know exactly how we get her.”

And Drak Thale closed his heart then.

Feelings would just make it harder.

SPIN DRIVE

“Jesus Christ in heaven, that is one fine ass fucking ship.”

I looked up from where I was moping at Techne, who was watching as the huge cranes for the Atom City spaceport swung the black, angular, deadly looking Hegemony corvette over to a dismantling bay for the eager techs with plasma torches and bolt cutters. I’d caught the sound of it as it fell through the atmosphere of Atom, tumbling head over heels, plunging towards metallic hydrogen and crushing deaths. I had caught it and brought it back to us with a thought.

Scary, when you think about it.

Techne turned back to face me, her smile fading a bit.

“So...” she said. “Am I gonna need to chip you, Venn?”

I grunted.

“Wandering off seems to be your modus operandi,” she said, sitting down beside me. I was sitting on a set of stairs leading up into one of the many side passages that warrened around the spaceport proper. It wasn’t where sundivers docked. It was where smaller ships were taken, after they had had their antiprotons siphoned out and weren’t at risk of exploding like ... well, like all those missiles I had strangled. The memory of it flickered through my dreams sometimes. They were the only thing that did.

I had reached out for Thale a few times since he had been chased out of the system by Atom City’s cutters. There was nothing there but a mirror black surface, reflecting my voice and my face back at me. I’d cried. I’d sobbed.

And now, I was moping. Since I was all out of tears.

Techne slid her arm around my shoulder. “You still don’t want to talk about what happened?”

She spoke with the fragility of someone tip toing through a mine field.

Not for the first time, I wondered, what exactly Techne thought had happened between me and Thale down there.

RAPE

Yeah, duh.

“He didn’t ... hurt me,” I said.

Techne looked aside. “Venn,” she said.

“What?” I asked, then stood up. “That’s what you’re thinking! That’s why everyone’s treating me so fucking fragile! No! Oh no!” I stepped away from her and began to stalk in angry circles. “Oh no, no, no, it just turns out that Thale is short for Drak Thale, the fucking lord of darkness! That’s what’s got me so fucked, Techne. Our first meeting was him digging through someone’s brains. He nearly killed me, I had nightmares about him – and at the same time, I was drooling over him, but I didn’t know he was the same guy, and yeah! All right! Fine! We fucked, Techne! That’s what we did! We locked blades, then we locked lips, and then he fucked me and I fucking liked it! I want him to do me again! If he was here right now, I’d chew his fucking clothes off! That’s what happened, Techne! There! Now you can stop walking on fucking claymores around me!”

I panted heavily.

A few of the techs working at the corvette, almost a dozen meters away, were looking in our direction.

Techne held her hands up in a placating mode. “Whoa. Venn.” She coughed. “I, uh ... I didn’t think he’d ... I mean...” She shook her head. “Damn.” She blinked. “Is it bad that I kind of want more details?”

“Yes!” I shouted.

“What if I gave you ice cream?” Techne asked.

“What. The. Fuck is that!?” I asked. “And no!”

DETAILS

“So ... he’s hung?” Techne asked as we sat together in the palatial estates that Baron-Administrator Arete had given us. She had fabbed me up the so called ice cream and it was entirely a bribe. A grotesque, obvious, delicious, melty, soft, perfect bribe. I had once been shocked food had names. I’d been blown away that food had colors. But the idea that food could be so decadently sweetly perfect. It was like puffs of ice flavored by Jesus Christ herself, melting in my mouth as smooth as you can imagine, and I felt like I could eat it for a million years and never get tired of it.