“Everything before, too. Trying to be better.”

“I don’t want to step on any toes or get into anythin’ too sensitive here,” Moose said. “But can I ask? Would be easier to not step on toes if I can ask.”

“It’s the whole thing. Get powers as a kid, sixteen years old, make friends with the right people, start dealing. It’s an elevation in status, y’know? I was the guy who the cool kids in high school went to for product. Had money, had girls throwing themselves at me, I was invited to all the parties, and I meet Velvet there. One of many girls in one of many cities. But she gets powers and comes back to me, wants in, wants out of her house, especially. I oblige, and she doesn’t make me regret it.”

Moose nodded.

“Years pass, we find our fit. She’s got more financial sense, I’ve got the salesmanship. Most capes, there’s going to be conflict. She’s got her thing, you know how her power works. She hangs around somewhere, and this dust collects, and she can telekinetically control stuff, more dust there is on it. It’s how she gets that fucking truck going again, when it refuses to move. She makes us sit there for five minutes and then gives it another try, and it works, and she’ll fiddle with it later and get it tuned up just enough it starts going.”

“She must care an awful lot about it,” Moose observed.

“She does. But that’s her whole psychology. She wants to settle in, wants to have a place she can call hers, whether it’s that truck cab or, I don’t know, going upstairs. I get restless. The mover thing. That causes friction. But we work despite it. We’re as soulmate as you can get when you’ve got… whatever these things are giving us our powers. Parasites. You had the visions when we were on the battlefield, that day.”

“Sure,” Moose said.

“As yin-yang soulmate as you can get with these things screwing up the fit,” Prancer said. “But we got comfortable. I graduate school, barely, she graduates a year after me, we keep up the routine. Some wheeling, mostly dealing. The parties every weekend, tooth and nail fights because we’re both the type to flirt with others, before we realized we were fine just not worrying about it. Couple more years pass, I’m twenty-one, she’s twenty, still in the routine.”

“A rut?” Moose asked.

“Just the way things were. Somewhere along the line, you know, I’m twenty-seven, she’s twenty-six, and I’m still boning boys and girls from high school. Still partying.”

Moose’s eyes had widened.

“Legal, mind you,” Prancer said. “But… sketchy, in retrospect.”

“More than a little, no offense,” Moose said.