The video showed Ángel on electric guitar, with Tonio Ortiz on bass and Marissa on drums, performing a raucous, gender-bending version of “Good Girls” by Elle King. Tonio and Ángel leaned into each other, their lips nearly touching the mike as they sang.

“You look so tall,” said Lily.

“I look taller when I perform.”

Oberon asked, “What makes this performance particularly gay? Aside from the fact that you’re singing about being a bad girl.”

“This was at a wedding reception down in Miami Beach right after same-sex marriage became legal,” explained Ángel. “These guys had been a couple for thirty years. And they never thought they’d ever get to get married, you know? So they, and all their friends—they really came to party. Holy fuck, did those old gay dudes know how to party. Jesus Christ. We could barely keep up, and we were the band.” The camera panned unsteadily around the reception hall, showing a sweaty swirl of dancers in their most flamboyant celebratory outfits.

“That’s—” said Lily, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my.”

Ángel watched the video to the end. Marissa kept a rock-solid beat on the drums, her biceps flexing beneath her butterfly tattoos, and Tonio danced and flirted with Ángel as they played. Tonio was straight but an inveterate performer, and he responded to the energy in the room, strutting and leering at Ángel as he worked his bass. Ángel sighed at the loud, imperfect music, the noise, the sheer fun of it. He missed performing.

He asked Chandler, “Is the DOR going to, like, address this? Issue a press release about it?”

“No,” she said.

“Do you think we should say something in the podcast?”

“No.”

“If no one mentions it at all, people will keep wondering,” objected Lily.

“Address what?” asked Oberon.

“I mean, we can just deny it,” said Ángel. “One sentence, and then on with the show.”

“If you deny it, people will take that as confirmation,” said Chandler, exasperated. “Damn it, Ángel. We can’t afford to have this kind of speculation.”

“I’m sorry. I do laugh like a girl.”

“Speculation about what?” asked Oberon.

“People want to know if we’re fucking,” said Ángel.

“Oh.” Oberon paused. “No. I don’t intend to address that.”

“Why?” asked Ángel, curiously.

“Am I misunderstanding?” asked Oberon. “It would be a violation of your privacy to discuss that with people, wouldn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Ángel, clicking on a Tumblr blog called Oberangler. It was full of manga-style fan drawings of himself and Oberon. Not too X-rated, mostly just kissing. “Carajo. I mean. I’m not Katy Perry or anything. I can’t imagine that anyone will care about this for more than five minutes. But now the God Hates Fags people and the God Hates Elves people will team up.”

“They were already on the same team,” said Lily.

“Probably true,” sighed Chandler.