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“But your Seer did it to heal.”
“He’d be an exception.”
The room went quiet as Kaphas stared at Bishop’s hand then finallyreached out with his.
“That’s all there is to it,” Bishop said, gripping his hand.
Spar watched the exchange, glancing up at the dude who also stared at the simple gesture.
“Thank you,” he said, looking at Bishop as he continued shaking. “For being… a friend.”
Bishop nodded once. “It is a pleasure, mon frere.”
Their hands stilled. “That’s the French language. Zhah-pron boh-koo duh shoze. Zhuh puh parl-ay set mil san swas-ont deez weet long meh long-glay eh mah long prin-see-pal. Mah fam luh parl. Ell sah-pel Celeste. Say mon ahnzh.”
Spar’s jaw fell open. He’d never heard his own tongue like that. Somehow every syllable felt like smoldering silk. With utmost fluency, he’d told them he knew seven thousand one hundred sixty-eight languages, with English being his primary tongue. Like his wife, Celeste. Who was his angel.
“Well, that’s fucking handy,” Spar said, getting those golden eyes on him.
“How do you know Handy?”
“Not… that Handy,” Bishop cut in. “The slang type of handy. It means... useful.”
The man’s mouth tugged a little. “I’m familiar with it. As well as the fucking. My brother Kult loves that word. As does my brother Harlow. Fetch, Fathom and Fin love the word in regard to sexual relations with their wives. As do I.”
“Okay TMI,” Cherie cried quietly, sitting next to Seer on the bed.
“That’s an acronym for too much information,” Bishop informed him with a grin.
“Meaning it’s private,” Cherie added. “You don’t discuss that meaning of the “f” word with other people. Besides your wife.”
“My brothers and I need to discuss it,” he said, sounding confused and getting Cherie’s hand up.
“That's fine, but I am not your brother.”
“You are not,” he said, or realized. “My apologies,” he added after a few seconds.
“You’re learning quickly, mon frere,” Bishop chuckled.
“I’m getting a crash course in human complexities,” he said, looking at Spar now. “That’s what Kult told me this is called. Are you married?”
“Mon Dieu,” Bishop said, drawing the man’s gaze.
Kaphas wondered, “Your God?”
“It’s an expression forhere we go,” Spar helped dryly. “Yes, I’m married to answer your question.”
“If that’s what we’re callin’ it,” Cherie barely muttered.
“I actually don’t want to call it that but have no choice,” Spar aimed at her.
“Is there more than one type of marriage?” Kaphas wondered, like it would be news to him.
Cherie stood with her hands on her hips, eyes locked on Spar. “He rolled dice to pick his wife and let’s just say the fate of the roll wasn’t very nice to him.”
“Fate of the roll?” Kaphas wondered. “Dice do not have fate.”
All heads turned to the single chuckle Seer gave. “Those dice do,” he said getting Cherie’s gasp and mouth immediately on his. “Mmm,” he murmured in a pleasure Spar envied more than he dared admit as Seer made shooing motions at them.
