“Well, you cannot lie to me, but you can shade the truth until water is purple, the sky is green, and the moon is indeed a tasty spanakopita,” I said, finally, trying to turn the mood.

“Have you eaten moon?” Nen asked.  “Held pieces of it? Visited?”

“No,” I admitted.  There was an exhibit once of moon rock nearby, but my mother forbade me because of the radioactivity.  At least, that’s the reason she gave me.  It wasn’t like I was generally absorbing radioactivity that I knew of, but can you really see yourself glow in the dark?

“Then you cannot with definite personal experience exclude the spanakopita qualities of the moon.  It is telling, however, that you can provide impersonal experience that allows you to determine that your moon, at least, is less likely to be made of spanakopita.  Spanakopita is a spinach pie, is it not?”

“According to the menus of the Greek places I’ve eaten at, yeah.”  I shrugged. I was only guessing on how to pronounce it, too.

“I shall include it,” Rayya said, as if answering a question Nen had asked.  If he had, it hadn’t been allowed.

“Oh no. We’re going shopping?” I asked, making it sound like a groan.

“Unless you prefer I pilfer and acquire things by other means,” Rayya left it hanging.

“What, you think I’m suddenly growing a conscience? Oh wait, I did tell you no murdering.” I sighed.  “Okay.  Unless there’s anything else, I’m going to bed.” I yawned, as if to punctuate it.

“There are other things,” Rayya said.

“But,” Nen glanced at her, “none which require your sleep-deprived presence.”

Rayya appeared to accede, with a hint of a grin disguised by a flash of the white fabric of her shoulder. She would use the excess fabric as a veil, I noticed. A tell, in a poker sense, maybe? I knew better than to play cards with the two of them. No doubt there’d be some magical fallout, and I’d lose my dignity.

I believe I have some of my dignity.  They may have gotten my goat enough that it recognized them as surrogate parents, but it was my goat, darnit.

I mean, in a metaphorical sense.  I didn’t even have a cat.

“Do you think we should get a cat?” I asked aloud.

“Most people say, ‘Goodnight,'” Nen said, half-chidingly.

“I am not sure it would be entirely irresponsible,” Rayya said.

“I’d have to pay a pet deposit,” I noted. “You two don’t eat cats?” I asked, quickly.

“They are relatively unobjectionable,” Rayya said.

“I have not yet,” Nen said. “They give you furballs.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” I said. “But Kermit used it to keep someone off of him, and I respect that.”

“Kermit is indeed wise, except for his interest in the pig,” Rayya said, seriously.

“I think it was suppose to represent that love is weird and confusing and not always predictable or logical.  Or kosher.”  I might have felt a little bad about adding that last.

Nen made a directly human response, rolling his eyes, but Rayya only tilted her head. “The dietary laws?”

“Forbid eating pork, yes,” I said. “Um, there’s a lot more to it, though. Compassion in the ways of killing a beast, I think.  No pain upon its death.  Not eating anything that slithers upon its belly.  No mixing of milk and meat, like mother and child.  I think chicken omelettes are okay, but I’m just kind of guessing at that.  There are some birds you can’t eat, though.  Owls.  Swans.”

“They are wise laws for a people in a desert, and also for those unsure of the world upon which they’ve put their feet,” Rayya said.  “Also, counsel against inebriation in heat, and requiring time for a tree to mature before its fruits can be harvested.”  She made one of those rolling shrugs.

“I have to admit, other than a lot of humour from Jewish comedians, I’m not up on the religion. Nothing against them, of course. I mean, from the little I do know, it does seem rather… reasonable?  There’s a few not wearing satin on Sundays kinds of things, which isn’t a thing, I know, but I don’t remember the actual one, but most of it seems like you said, good rules of thumb for where and when they were.”

“Don’t they all?” Nen asked.

“It’s a generous premise,” I allowed, “but I think there are methods and nuances for change that might put different rules in different light.  Like languages trying to remain pure, and still needing to talk about cyberware or something, something those people who had never seen a turtle could necessarily experience in their native tongue.”

“A patois for the tortoise challenged?” Nen teased.

“If it hides in a shell and has the propensity to be dropped on its back by an eagle, does it quack like a duck?” I asked.

He gave me the point with a wry smile and a nod.  I felt like I had won something grand, but kept it to myself: crowing about the points kind of diffused their impact.  That was a human thing, by the way; the fey liked to crow occasionally.  Which was a weird term for something more like a rooster, but crows could be quite the gossips.

Or so I’d surmised.

“I am not entirely sure how we got into a religious discussion after I suddenly decided I might want a cat, if you could call that a decision. I am guessing you are correct and going to sleep is probably a good choice at this point.”  I caught myself yawning again. “Will I be waking up to a house decorated in sheep guts and glitter?” I asked.

“Would you like to?” Nen asked, teasingly.

“Are those traditional decorations for you?” Rayya asked, looking suspicious.   “I was thinking…” she trailed off.  “Paper,” she decided.

“Well, that is the traditional first anniversary gift, were we married,” I said.  “I find myself more of a modern guy.  You know, clocks.  Because right now mine seems to be warning me that if I don’t go to bed, I’m likely to turn into a pumpkin.”

I paused.  “No,” I just said.  They’d understand.