Lev cocks his head to one side, listening as Leon talks; he makes sympathetic noises regarding everything here is so strange.
Once Leon's done, Lev smiles, and says, "No need to apologise! And, like, I'd like to explain, nu? Uhm. I mean like, this place, it has been an adjustment for me, too. People here, so many of them are awfully plain. Most are nu, shaped like thee and me? All the time, apparently," at this, he pauses and shudders, as though the idea of being human-shaped all the time is distasteful.
Lev takes a deep breath.
"So, like, anyway," he says, "I mean, I guess it's unusual where I come from, too? Not so much like, being a cultivar, the fact I desire not to cease being the thing I was expected to be." He pauses, realises he's rather talking around the issue, and squeezes the bridge of his nose. He has a script for how these conversations go, and the current situation is enough off-script to make it difficult.
"When I was born, well, nu. My family assumed I was going to grow up to be a man," he finally says. "And I didn't, nu? Not the way they expected. But I'm not like, just a woman. I guess like, I'm both? At different times, to different people. I'm a man to my husband, I'm a man to—" he pauses, and blushes, and when he speaks again, he's mumbling, suddenly shy, "I'm a man to other men who're ... hothouse flowers. Not heterosexual. But I'm a woman to other women, especially if they're nu, like me? Women by choice."
He bites his lip, carefully looking at the table and not at Leon. No need to add the stress of eye contact to the situation.
no subject
Lev cocks his head to one side, listening as Leon talks; he makes sympathetic noises regarding everything here is so strange.
Once Leon's done, Lev smiles, and says, "No need to apologise! And, like, I'd like to explain, nu? Uhm. I mean like, this place, it has been an adjustment for me, too. People here, so many of them are awfully plain. Most are nu, shaped like thee and me? All the time, apparently," at this, he pauses and shudders, as though the idea of being human-shaped all the time is distasteful.
Lev takes a deep breath.
"So, like, anyway," he says, "I mean, I guess it's unusual where I come from, too? Not so much like, being a cultivar, the fact I desire not to cease being the thing I was expected to be." He pauses, realises he's rather talking around the issue, and squeezes the bridge of his nose. He has a script for how these conversations go, and the current situation is enough off-script to make it difficult.
"When I was born, well, nu. My family assumed I was going to grow up to be a man," he finally says. "And I didn't, nu? Not the way they expected. But I'm not like, just a woman. I guess like, I'm both? At different times, to different people. I'm a man to my husband, I'm a man to—" he pauses, and blushes, and when he speaks again, he's mumbling, suddenly shy, "I'm a man to other men who're ... hothouse flowers. Not heterosexual. But I'm a woman to other women, especially if they're nu, like me? Women by choice."
He bites his lip, carefully looking at the table and not at Leon. No need to add the stress of eye contact to the situation.