"As a friend." A beat. "Terribly strange, that. There may be offers to join them in their bed in the future that I may or may not accept but- we are friends. None of us are jealous. I, perhaps, might be if I gave weight to sentiment in the same way they seem to."

Love is- it is not for him, not that kind. He had it once and killed it and that went to show how well he knew to care for it. But this? This bloodless, sexless thing with Alistair? This he knew how to mind.

How to care for, how to react to. Loving without wanting. Liking, needing, yes, but no desire. Or- no desire that was so black and so jealous as to unravel the rest. "So they have one another and I? I have you."