Mojave was largely silent, eyes wide. It was getting increasingly hard to tell what he should be flattered by and what he should be offended by, and the words he wanted to say all sounded wrong in so many different ways. All the admissions he wanted to make, all the things he'd been going to say- all of that would certainly upset the swimmer more. There wasn't a way for Mojave to comfort him- not that he thought Rancor wanted that, anyways.

I didn't think you would have remembered me. I worried that if you did return, you'd not be sure who I was at all- Don't you think it's some sort of sign? I mean, that has to mean something, Surely, the part about the 'many women' he'd been with wasn't too important- Mojave'd gloss over that for now. I mean, you did make a suggestive remark that one time, but I only realized what you meant months after and it was, I thought, sarcastic humor,

Does the concept of liking me make you ill? OBVIOUSLY, it DID, but Mojave had never heard such blatant homophobia from him. Just a general sense of self-superiority and no patience for others. ... What sort of thoughts have you been thinking about me, then, if you're so against these feelings?