I say, “If I tell you the reason why I’m here, will you tell me about Nick?”

“That’s not fair. Nobody knows jackfuck about him.”

There goes that. I drag my fork through the remains of my tuna. I don’t even like fish, but I haven’t eaten all day, and hunger is starting to make me sluggish. I’m sure there’s some Bible quote that’s woven itself into my skin about sacrifice, or maybe something from High Reverend Father Ian Clevenger’s rambling manifesto, but all I remember is the feeling. Another mouth, more food, I’m sick and shouldn’t bother.

“Really?” I manage. I shouldn’t even be asking about Nick. He’s my commander and nothing else. “That sucks.”

“Well, Erin knows everything about him, but good luck getting her to talk. She’s a steel trap.” Salvador looks over at Aisha, who is sitting on the other side of the room with a book, Faith beside her. “You’d have an easier time getting Aisha to date a white girl.”

Aisha pipes up, “Piss off.” Faith snorts into her cup of water.

I tuck my head in closer. “Wait, she and Faith aren’t—”

“Nope. Besides, Faith is aromantic, and Aisha wants to ask out Sadaf.”

“I can hear you!” Aisha protests.

“So what?” Salvador calls back. “We’re not talking shit.”

I say, “So you know everybody’s business?”

“I do my best. Tomi used half our supply of antibiotics last month when they got a UTI banging Luce, which, ew, why would you. Cormac is a bottom. Erin actually used to have a crush on Nick before she found out he’s gay, and I’m surprised I even got that out of her. Look, give me something, and I’ll give you something. How’s that sound?”

Nick is gay? I rein in my expression before xe notices. I mean, I’d figured he was something if he was here, but…

It doesn’t matter. I’m betrothed. I’m an Angel, I am Seraph, I am the avatar of the Flood. Crushes are a waste of time when I’m just weeks away from being God’s wrath incarnate. Besides, cis gays are the worst. I’ve only been part of the ALC for a few days, and I’m already picking up on strange divides in the queer community. I can almost hear one of the other trans guys mocking cis gays to his friend, wrinkling his nose and whining, “Ew, pussy! I could never!” Like they think not having a dick makes us lower-tier men, like there’s something wrong with us.

It’s just that I don’t get along with the other trans guys here. One turned up his nose at me, and I’ve been too awkward to approach the others.

“All right,” I say. “I’ll give you something, but you have to answer my next question the best you can.”

Salvador perks up, eyes flashing. “Go for it.”

“I said I’m in it just because Nick thought I should be, but—” There are so many things I could say. I could make myself seem selfless, taking on the hardest jobs just because I feel like I should. Or I could hint that someone who forgives me for being Seraph deserves every ounce of myself I can give them. So I say it all, as simply as possible. “They took my dad. I want to make them regret it.”