>The love of your life has been fretting lately. Nothing new. He'd obsess over anything if given half a chance. But yesternight was the last straw for you. These fucking cultists already ruined his Hanukkah, you won't let them ruin the rest of his perigee.
>Leaving the hive is a whole production, which you should have known it would be. You don't really... do that. Your claim that you're going to physical therapy, while making him happy, didn't make him any less suspicious. You eventually get him to leave you alone, though.
>You've been avoiding the Battleship Condescension, for obvious reasons, but the most significant office of the cult is there, because baby Carmin is there, so you deign to visit.
>When you walk in the office, a secretary attempts to talk to you, but you ignore her, going for the door with the bluest sign and shutting it behind you.
>A teal sits at the desk in front of you, and he smiles when you enter.
"Dex! What a lovely surprise!"
>He doesn't seem surprised. Later you'll need to see if they have precogs or just very good intelligence, but that's not important right now.
>You bare your teeth in what somebody particularly stupid might call a smile.
"It's Ψiioniic, to you, actually. We're going to talk about the party you guys have planned."
>He's not pronouncing it right, and he fucking knows it. You could correct him, except for your stupid fucking lisp. You'd sound dumb, and you'd lose. You could let him say your name wrong. You'd look weak, and you'd lose. You may hate the number, but taking a third option is sometimes what's best.
"Sure, if that's the best you can do."
>His smile falters, not for long, but he's a professional. You won.
"What did you want to discuss with us, Ψionic?"
"This party for my moirail, that guy you just can't get enough of, is obviously going to suck shit, that's just how it is. If you make it too miserable, we'll publicly reject your branch of the shitty cult."
>His smile thins. You bare more teeth.
"No execution imagery. No irons, no 'Sufferer'. Drinks other than wine. Fancy non alcoholic drinks so people can stay in their pans without 'rejecting your hospitality'. There needs to be somewhere private for us to retreat to when your bullshit is too much."
>He opens his mouth, and you talk over whatever inane garbage he was about to say.
"You know which one I am, so I hope you can appreciate the sincerity of what I'm about to say: if anybody in official culty getup attempts to guilt my moirail, you, personally, will die."
"I trust you can make that happen. You know how to reach us if you have any questions."
>You stand up, and pluck the cheap electronic bug out from under his nameplate.
"And no claiming you forgot any of these things, either, because the recording should have been clear enough to pick it all up."
>You set it down on his desk, wave jauntily, and turn around.
>He's already making calls by the time you shut the door behind you, and you're much calmer as you drift serenely home. Rosa probably could have handled that better, but you think you did alright.