“Yes, well, you would,” Lyri muttered. “You’re lominas with him.” “He’s… he’s what?” I asked. “Don’t repeat—” “Smitten, otherworlder,” Lyri spoke loudly over Lor. “He is smitten with you. Because you are showing him your strange human sexual ways. And bringing him odd gifts,” he added, gesturing at the melted ice cream all over our legs and the floor.
