"We're both safe, and here together," Ganymede says softly. "It could be worse." Raylan could have thought he was crazy, that his story and his age were unbelievable. It was a constant worry for him, really. He listened to his lover when he talked about becoming callous with the violence necessary for his job, and feathered his fingertips over Raylan's skin, soft and gentle.

"I don't think you're callous, love. Not even close," he murmurs. "If you were, you wouldn't have cared why someone got themselves killed today. You wouldn't have offered to teach me how to get myself out of that position safely, and you've done both." Ganymede kept his movement slow and easy as they spoke, tracing looping patterns over the swell and curve of the body underneath his. "I don't know your father, but I don't think you're much like him, the way you talk. But I know it worries you--what has he done that makes you dislike him?"