Sylred clears his throat. “Speaking of mates…” “We should return to our home island and begin the mating ceremony,” Ronak inserts. I sigh in fake boredom. “Hmm, I don’t know…I’m gonna need a little wooing.” Three sets of eyes blink at me. “Wooing? What the fuck is wooing?” “You know, romance. Love. Flirting. Nice stuff,” I emphasize. “Oh, here the fuck we go,” Evert mumbles. He points at Okot. “You. This is your fault. Stop being so gentlemanly. You’re making us look bad.”
