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So it was that I found myself ensconced in the guest bedroom, seated in a comfortable chair, since sitting on the bed was just way too strange for me to handle. I had given a brief thought to being on the bed when Dmitri came in, patting the space beside me, just to see his reaction. I wasn't feeling that self-confident, and I didn't know in what order they would be visiting me, although I had my guesses. Aleks, knowing that the blini would be happily sugary enough for me, had provided for me a digestion-aiding no-sugar ginger ale; I had not been diagnosed as diabetic; my loving lion was working to help me keep it from happening. I'd been in the room for just about enough time to take a good sip, when my first visitor came in.

"Eek!" said the young lioness, putting both forepaws to her cheeks. "A bear! However shall I survive?"

"Eek!" I managed, rising to greet the young female. "The lioness has stalked me to my den! I'll be dinner for her pride!"

"Nah, we already et." We both chuckled, sharing a hug, and then she closed the door behind her.

"Chivalry, at the least, insists that I ask if you feel that you should keep the door ajar."

"Gonna try something? With the whole family just outside?" She grinned, seated herself on the other chair (one brought in specifically for today's interviews), and I resumed my seat. "If nothing else, I'd have thought that you'd want Dmitri instead."

Chuckling amiably, I told her of my idea, about sitting on the bed, and she gave out with a fine giggle. "He would probably camp it up for you. He's got a lot of confidence in himself, as well as in Aleks." She sobered a bit. "I have the sense that Aleks has told him a lot about you, and I've heard at least some of that. And I've finally gotten to meet you." She smiled softly at me. "You've fit in well with all of the conversation tonight. I wanted to be the first to talk with you here, just to say that I think you 'met the 'rents' even better than I did. I don't have your life experience, and I don't mean that as a jab about your age."

"Do you think I'm too old for Aleks?"

"We're asking the questions, not you!" Her grin was quick, being replaced by an easier smile. "And since you asked, no. I don't think age enters into it, at least not as something that should outright stop a relationship. Besides, I watched how you two interacted today, and I think you're wonderful for each other."

"I would say the same of you and Dmitri." I smiled at her. "I hope to hear all of the stories although, as you joked, I get the idea that I'm supposed to be the one answering questions today. What do you want to know from me?"

"First of all, Tristan, let me promise you that none of us is looking for dirt, digging out dark secrets, nothing like that." She leaned over to pet my arm gently. "It really is about getting to know you. Marsey and Kyra weren't trying to find out if I was 'good enough' for Dmitri. Aleks joked about it for maybe two seconds."

"Sounds like him," I chuckled.

"I already know that I want to spend lots of time with you, especially to ask you what you might think of some of my own ideas for the theater. I also want to find out what writings of yours you would recommend for me, to get me started."

"Truth told," I said, nodding, "if you want to get to know me, my writing is a particularly good place to start. I'm a hope-full romantic, and nearly all of my work is character-driven. Most of it is gay-male oriented, although not overtly sexual." I offered a self-deprecating grin. "They do say, 'write what you know'."

Her pause was a surprise, if only because she seemed to consider my comment so carefully. At length, she said, "Tristan, I really do want to spend time with you. I have the feeling that we share a lot of common traits -- artistic natures, uncertainties, and love for two truly amazing males who we sometimes wonder why they love us."

My expression must have reflected the shock I felt.

She smiled at me. "Only sometimes. And I'm really sorry if I've overstepped. It's what you said at the table, having a difficult time meeting people. The word 'autistic' is used on a sliding scale now, and I probably fall on it somewhere."

"Another word is 'neurodivergent'," I said softly. "Differently-wired brains think differently. I believe that a lot of creativity comes from that. There's even a book, a work of fiction, about a rather twisted scientist trying to make the general population become neurodivergent by putting something in the water, literally." I grinned. "Strangely, the book is not as scary as it sounds."

"Clearly, we have a lot to talk about... including that we can probably talk each other's ears off!" Her smile became a grin. "Dmitri told me that he planned to use a stopwatch on my time in here, so... Okay: One special question from each of us." She gathered herself in a sweetly comic fashion, then plunged in.

"Tristan, where do you get your ideas from?"

I blinked, convinced that she was playing an elaborate joke on me. Again, she must have read my expression.

"Really, I mean it. I'll explain why I asked that, when you're done."

Clearing my throat, I began, "Well... I mentioned that my work is nearly all character-driven. Even in plot-driven works from my juvenilia, the plot is driven by the natures of the characters; if those particular characters hadn't been involved in the action, the plot would not have gone the way that it did.

"What that means, to me, is that I feel like characters come to me to have their stories told. Sometimes, I need to interview them (so to speak), for them to tell me the story and their role in it. Other times, I remember the words of my mentor, who spoke of taking random words and having some characters start talking about them, or creating a story simply by jumping off of a cliff and building your wings on the way down."

I smiled. "The shorter form is that I'm just crazy, with a short-circuiting brain that manages to provide some good fiction, whether it's a story for publication or one that I tell myself so that I can live in a world that I don't understand all that well."

For a moment, I was afraid that I had "over-shared," as the modern world calls it. Then, Lorita smiled at me, the warmth of her whole heart showing through it.

"Two answers in one." The lioness nodded at me. "I wanted to hear what you'd say about your ideas, your writing; you also told me what you really feel, showed me your heart. That's the other question that I had in mind: Would you open yourself to me, when you feel ready? And I guess you do already."

"Something Aleks deserves either the credit or the blame for. I promised him that I will always be my best self for him, in a 'warts and all' sort of way." I managed a smile. "I feel covered in warts, most of the time, and Sasha gives me a head-smack when I need one."

"I noticed that," she said, chuckling. As she rose, I joined her, and we hugged again.

"Victorious," I whispered. She pulled back to look at me. "Your name. 'Lorita' comes from 'laurel,' and the laurel leaves were the crowns of Greek athletes who won their games."

"Knowing a writer is going to be fun," she chuckled. Stretching a bit in her digitigrade stance, she placed a chaste peck to my cheek. "Thank you, Tristan. I'm so glad that you and Aleks found each other because, now, I've found you, too."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My hunch proved correct: After Lorita had left, Dmitri came in, although not quite on her heels, nor was he brandishing a stopwatch. He did, however, look at me with some sparkle in his eyes. "Well, hello there, big guy," he all but purred at me. "You all alone in here?"

"Be careful; my lover is very jealous."

"So's my mate, but they don't have to know." He sat on the bed and winked at me. "What're you into?"

"Lions are big on my list." I grinned suggestively.

"We're big on anyone's list." He matched my leer. "You like to play with toys?"

"Ooo, now yer talkin'."

"What's your favorite?"

I leaned in, giving him my lewdest wink. "Got a henway?"

He blinked. "What's a henway?"

"Maybe a couple of kilos."

Groaning, clenching his eyes shut, Dmiti rolled off the bed to go sit in the chair, chortling softly. "I fell right into that one!"

"If you'll forgive the joke, I just had to wait for the right opening. Timing is everything."

"Sasha has told us all that you're a jokester, and a punster besides."

"Yes," I agreed, with a serious expression. "When they call me The Punisher, they're not talking about that comic book character."

The lion raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you have an 'off' switch?"

Raising a forepaw in a placating gesture, I said, "Sorry, Dmitri. Aleks is right: I deflect a lot. I guess I'm still nervous. It's not like this is an interrogation or something."

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!"

We both laughed, sharing a fist-bump in recognition of the famous Monty Python sketch. It was the right move; Aleks also must have tipped off Dmitri about my tendency to relax in the face of comedy shared.

"Since I can't seduce you," the lion grinned, "I guess I'll just have to talk with you."

"Eminently fair."

He paused a moment, and I noticed how like his brother he was. Both were tall, both with lavish manes and a thickly-furred tail-tip. I hadn't heard about any fur-tattoos on Dmitri, and I thought it improper to ask; it would be interesting to find out if they shared that attribute as well. In summer, I would perhaps know more.

"You know," he began, "that I'm a union rep for my company. I'm trained as a mediator, and my job is to get management to the table, to hammer out a deal that works for both sides. If I can't do that, we have to bring in an arbiter, and that can be a problem; binding arbitration usually finds in favor of a company rather than its workers."

"Or its customers." I nodded. "Most of us can't use a product or service without agreeing to binding arbitration, rather than seeking a dispute resolution through other means. It usually means that the company can screw us over without fearing that we might actually call them on it and seek reparations."

"You're an anti-capitalist commie liberal." He grinned. "I approve."

I held up a fist. "Up the workers!"

Chuckling, Dmitri imitated the gesture, then sobered a bit. "I bring it up in order to ask my question. I have no doubt that you're on Aleks' side, even on the family's side. My question is, how are you going to make sure that continues to work?"

Blinking, I sat back, surprised. "I'm not sure I understand the question."

"No accusations, Tristan. Believe me, Lorita and I have had our problems; we'll no doubt have more, over the years." The lion shifted his posture a little, his eyes never leaving mine. "We work them out, and sometimes, we need outside help. I go to Mama, Papa, even Aleks, and I have a female co-worker who gives me an outsider-female's view on things. Lorita has several female friends, a few male friends, and family of course, all of whom are trustworthy."

"I understand now. Friends, sounding boards, to help me work out how to approach an issue." I nodded. "Aleks and I practice metacommunication, as I'm sure you do as well. Even so, it's good to take a friend on a practice run."

Dmitri grinned. "Good way to put it."

Leaning forward again, I plunged in. "Yes, I have a pretty good network for that. Close to paw is the lovely couple who are my next-door neighbors, Sylvie and Maggers... sorry, that's Sylvian Codrescu and Magersfontein Wellesley. Their friendship with me was fully half the reason that I bought the house. They helped me through some tough times before I met Aleks, and they've both been extremely supportive of my relationship with him. I've also met some of Aleks' friends..." I paused. "Come to think of it, did you ever meet Reed?"

"Briefly." Dmitri smiled. "Aleks was hosting an afternoon's sports match on cable. Reed is good company for a football game, but I never imagined that he and Sasha would be a good match, as mates."

"Reed is brighter than he wants to admit... although that's a longer story. He is very happy with DeShaun Lassiter, and they are our friends. Reed knows more about Aleks' recent past, although I think I might do better consulting you about what our panther friend might call 'mushy stuff'."

The lion's smile became a chuckle. "Depends on how 'mushy' you mean. I will be of no help in discussing bedroom technique."

"Sylvie and Maggers will have that arena covered," I laughed. "I'd rely upon Kyra for her emotional insights. That's not to say that you wouldn't have them as well. It's more that you would be a great historian, things regarding the perspectives of Aleks' behavior and attitudes while growing up, things that shaped him into..." I paused, took the chance. "...into the furson I've grown to love so very much."

Dmitri paused for a few seconds, then leaned forward, offering both of his forepaws to me. I took them, and he clasped mine gently. "To be a good mediator," he said softly, "you have to rely upon facts, to listen to both sets of issues, to work things out based on agreements and arrangements that are clearly defined. You also need to have a gut feeling about the fursons you're working with. There is a subtle art to knowing when someone is telling the truth of his convictions and when he's just toeing the party line."

He squeezed my forepaws, shook them gently. "You, Tristan, have spoken your heart. I have no doubt of it. You are a writer, a born communicator. You will speak your heart to Sasha, always, just as you've done to me, to all of us." He smiled at me. "INFP?"

Myers-Briggs had entered the conversation, despite how much it had been debunked over recent years. I chuckled. "Guilty as charged. Supposed to make me a good mediator. In your position, I expect that you need more negotiation skills, but I don't think you're my polar opposite."

"ESTP, or at least it usually comes out that way. We have the Perceiving vs. Judging factor in common... along with many other things."

Releasing my forepaws, he stood, and I followed his lead. He took me into a strong yet gentle hug. "Dobro pozhalovat?, moy brat."

I squeezed him gently. "Spacibo, moy brat."

Pulling slightly away from me, he took my head in both forepaws and kissed my forehead quickly. "That's as mushy as it gets, from me." He grinned. "Not disappointed?"

"Nope. T'weren't bad for a first kiss."

A pity I didn't have a stopwatch handy; I would love to know just how many seconds it took for Dmitri to start laughing. It's the sort of blackmail material that one brother would use on another.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After Dmitri had left, I was on my own for a couple of minutes, and I sipped the ginger ale to give myself a chance to wet my whistle. I had the impression that I was being given the time to gather myself between interviews, and I took it gratefully. Nothing about this process actually upset me. My weirdly-wired brain often views the unexpected as a threat, as opportunities for me to make mistakes, say the wrong things, embarrass myself... oh, I've got an entire continent full of self-imagined terrors, based upon the experiences of the past four-decades-plus. The classic psychotherapy question of "What's your first memory?" is met with the answer of "Being screamed at, with the full-throated terror of a sow seeing her cub about to be devoured by non-sapient predators. My crime? Crawling up the carpeted stairs, inside my house, on my own. It was dangerous to try things on my own or to think for myself. That was reinforced over all of my growing years. Does that give you any insights, Doctor?"

I work hard not to be bitter about things that happened in my past, whether I actually did something wrong, thought I did something wrong, or was wronged by others. It really is a lot of work, because the hard-wiring usually triumphs over my attempts to think better of myself. In theory, there are drugs to help me with this. The drugs also interfere with my creative abilities, which are my greatest raison d'être. How does one have a "better life" when that life has been reduced to banality and endless, emotionless shades of gray?

One way and another, wrestling with one's demons is the truest test of one's mettle. I was extremely grateful that Aleks had found me, to help me with that wrestling.

Kyra padded in, her smile as warm as before. I rose to greet her, if only to keep up the image of "genteel" that she had christened me with when we met at the front door, several hours ago. She came to me for a hug, and I didn't disappoint either of us. She enfolded me as she had Aleks, and she radiated so much love and acceptance that I felt myself on the verge of tears. We separated slowly, and before she moved to sit down, she cupped my cheek with her forepaw, patting it gently. It took a few moments before she spoke.

"I hope we've not been too intrusive with our questions."

"Not at all." I smiled gently. "I think I'm supposed to keep the questions confidential, for the time being. I will say that Lorita and Dmitri were both very kind."

"Then I shall try to be the same." She relaxed in her chair, regarding me with great benevolence. Aleks begat his coloration from her, and it was easy to transpose the two, in certain ways. I didn't imagine that she had fur tattooing, and I wasn't going to ask.

At length, she said, "I imagine you know that we will all be wanting to know as much as you'd wish to share with us. It's actually not easy to come up with just one question, so something frivolous often pops to mind. I was warned not to ask about the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow."

My braying laugh was surely heard in the living room. It made the lioness clap her forepaws with glee.

"I had no idea what that meant; Dmitri explained the reference, after bringing it up, of course. I don't know that I care much for British humor."

"The Britcom, in general, can be an acquired taste," I agreed, "and Monty Python in particular, because it's so utterly off-the-wall. I'll have to let you take a peek at my collections; I think I could find a few things that you'd enjoy."

"On the other paw, it could be like beets."

"Point taken," I grinned at her. "So, apart from beets and unladen swallows, what would you like to know?"

She set her forepaws in her lap, and I could see by the set of her ears and the tentative thapping of her tailtip behind her that she was troubled. "I'm not sure if I'll use the right words. My English is good, yet there are pitfalls, traps, between what I want to know and what words I may choose."

"Let's start with you using the words that you think are right, and we'll go from there."

Another hesitation, then she asked, "How do you and Sasha make love?"

I did my best not to flinch or show any particular reaction. It was a good bet that she wasn't asking about our favorite sexual positions. I hesitated just long enough for her to start shaking her head, to apologize. I raised my forepaws to forestall her.

"Kyra, please. It's okay. I think I know what you mean. In this country, in modern times, the phrase is thought to refer only to sexuality. A mere hundred years ago, the term was more about holding forepaws, cuddling, sharing kisses, showing affection. In the small town described in the book _Winesburg, Ohio,_which was published in 1919, the idea of 'making love in the park' at night would have been considered scandalous, and we're talking about things just like that. Your question refers to the many little ways he and I show our love to each other."

The ridges of her cheekbones shone a furious shade of red beneath the cerulean as she tried to recover from her embarrassment. "Yes," she managed to say. "I wasn't sure if the phrase only meant... I don't need to know about..." She managed to make herself be quiet, as if afraid to get herself into further trouble.

I smiled, leaned over to touch her arm very gently. "Perhaps you'll tell me about yourself and Marsey, one day, and the ways that you show love to each other. Today, I get to tell you just how large Sasha's heart can be. He's told you about his dance?"

She nodded, smiling. "He came to dinner, not long after that night, told us of it. We may get to see him dance, soon, I hope."

"Did he tell you that was the night that we shared our first kiss?"

"Yes." The smile deepened. "The look in his eyes... it still burned in him, as he told us of the kiss."

"In many ways, we had been making love long before that day. We share so much conversation, so much laughter..." I sighed, softly, happily. "Kyra, I feel that every thought, every word, every moment that we spend together is making love. We are stitching together so much of our lives, and it's all so wonderful to me."

"Always so perfect, this understanding you have?"

With a brief snort of laughter, I said, "Perfect in the sense that our mistakes and misunderstandings are part of how we grow. Let me give you a wonderful example of our lovemaking. One night, over dinner at his apartment -- by the way, given what I've sampled today, I can see where he gets his culinary talents! -- Aleks began telling me about a problem he'd been having at work. He went on for several minutes, describing a difficult programming issue, complete with reasons why it couldn't be one thing or another. All at once, his expression changed, and he got up from the table very quickly, moving to his desk, his work notes, and he jotted something on a piece of paper, then returned to the table, sighing happily, smiling at me. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I knew you'd help me figure out what was wrong'."

Laughing warmly, the lioness bobbed her head up and down, nodding furiously. "Marsey and his engineering! I am smart enough at nursing, but I couldn't know a thing about his tools, his machines, his musical-sounding micro-whatever-it-is. I just listen, and he works it out by talking it through."

"Or sometimes, there's that scary moment when he asks, 'What do you think it is?' and seems to expect a sensible answer!"

We shared a wonderful giggle over that one, and I got to explain to her the "flux capacitor" reference that I sometimes used on Aleks. I felt certain she would be ready to spring it on Marsey at some point soon.

Taking her forepaws into my own, I looked into her eyes. "Let me tell you one more thing about how we make love. It's something we've done from the first day that we met. We share our differences as much as our similarities. We met because of a volleyball, which isn't my sport, usually. I did try, on a few other occasions, with some friends of ours who are willing to give me pointers and to praise me when I do well. It's for fun rather than for competition, and that helps me a lot. We also met because of the book I was reading, and we talked about Russian writers, books, stories, many aspects of literature. Over these months, we've read books, listened to music, watched movies... I even found filmed tours of several famous art galleries in the world, and we talked about it all. Neither of us likes trying to read Umberto Eco; I'm more partial to certain mystery writers than he is; he's read all of Terry Pratchett, and I'm trying to catch up.

"I'm not keen on opera, but I understand it better after I listened to a series of audio lectures by a really entertaining speaker; Aleks also listened to the lectures on his own, and he's still not sold on opera, but now he understands what it is, how it works. I may never really like some of the modern rock stuff, but Aleks showed me the artistry of certain musical riffs by playing them on his bass, at a much quieter volume level, and I can get the idea more than I could before."

Grinning at her, I said, "We make love by trying each other's borscht."

It would not have surprised me if her laughter was heard by her next-door neighbors, and I joined right in with her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Marsey padded into the room, he wore a grin that told of the metaphorical deaths of any number of non-sapient canaries. "Tristan," he boomed softly at me, "if I hadn't already had a fine opinion of you, the sound coming from this room, moments ago, would have convinced me beyond question. I do so love to hear Kyra's laugh, and you made her nearly roar! It's going to nettle me, not to know what made her so very amused, but I shall find out one day, and we will laugh all the more, together."

"I'm sure of it." I had risen when he opened his arms to me, and our embrace became another happy, back-slapping hug. We chuckled softly with each other, sharing a very warm moment. My old mental programming would not be overwritten easily; however, there was a lot of evidence here to refute most of those ancient arguments. I seemed to be doing well with the members of Aleks' family, and this was just the first meeting. Perhaps, someday, I would believe in me the way Sasha does, and my programming might begin to be rewritten. Part of me wondered if the book he gave to me for WinterFest would help. I decided it was the wrong kind of programming, even though the language was named after Monty Python.

We released each other, sat in our respective chairs, and regarded one another silently for a few moments. At length, the great lion stirred and, still smiling, asked, "How are you feeling? ...and that is not my question, by the way."

Another quiet laugh escaped me. "I can give you a freebie for that one." I drew a breath, nodded. "I'm doing well. Lorita helped to put me at ease, and Dmitri and Kyra were also wonderful 'interviewers'." I smiled at the word, and Marsey followed suit. "You've all been very generous with your welcome and affection. I'm grateful."

The lion paused, considering me for a long moment. "You have not had this reception often, I think."

I breathed in again, making myself be as honest as I could manage. "I must take at least half the blame for that, since I don't give others much chance to get close. I have had a lot of... well, 'mental issues' sounds terrible. It might make me sound dangerous to Aleks."

Marsey shook his head. "Engineers know all kinds of words, even outside of our fields, because of the cobbled-together words we use inside our fields. I know the term 'neurodivergent,' and I know that such people are neither inherently dangerous, nor are they damaged. You show great intelligence, are good with words, even with emotions. You have attracted Sasha's attentions quite strongly, and you are good to him, too, so clearly, you have good taste."

He let me get out my brief chuckle before continuing. "The other half of the issues are from others. I believe that it's far more than half, Tristan, because I imagine that they have taken advantage of your trust, and they have injured you, intentionally or otherwise. You are like Lorita, who has doubts even with the evidence of her successes." He leaned forward, his eyes holding mine. "These are not faults. They are traits. They are part of who she is, who you are, and it is difficult to see other ways of thinking."

Nodding slowly, I spoke softly. "Yes. It's a deeply-ingrained feeling, reinforced by too much experience."

"The Big Lie." Marsey's face took on a darker demeanor. "A lie, especially an outrageous lie, told often enough, forcefully enough, becomes accepted as 'truth.' I have seen this, in many countries, including this one. It can appear in numerous forms, whether in politics or personal life, in great ways or small. It's never easy to fight alone."

He gathered himself, his expression sincere and open. "My question for you then, Tristan, is this: Are you able to let us become family to you?"

I looked away quickly. My brain performed as advertised, bringing up a dozen deflections, half a hundred scenarios of error and punishment, two hundred reasons why this would end my relationship with Aleks, a thousand recriminations for me to live through for every moment left to me in my failed, lonely, worthless life. Before I could give voice to any of this, I felt Marsey's forepaw on my arm, and I returned my gaze to his eyes. He did not speak aloud, yet I felt his strength and his reassurance through his look, his touch. Aleks had learned this from his sire, and it worked with me as well.

A score of thudding heartbeats later, I managed to push past the myriad qualifiers and cautionary comments, saying, "I want to be. I will ask for your help."

"You will have it."

He rose, and I with him. The lion again wrapped me in his warm embrace, with no back-slapping, just a firm, steady hug that offered all the welcome that I hoped, I so very much hoped, I could finally accept, if only because...

The thought dared to surface: Because you deserve it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Marsey let me have a few moments to myself before I returned to join the others. I gathered together my thoughts, my emotions, made sure that my eyes were reasonably dry and my nose not running like a faucet, then shook myself once through and padded slowly out of the guest bedroom. I had a fleeting sensation, like what it might feel like to be released from prison, the incarcerated fur making his slow way out of the cell that had held him for so long. The imagery was pitiful and painfully obvious: The prison was of my own creation. Despite how much of the bars and locks was forged by others, I helped to reinforce them against myself. Now, I was being given leave to rejoin the world. Too soon to know how much of this analogy I could learn from, how well I could learn to rejoin the world, even with help. That remained to be seen. First, there was something I very much needed to say to Aleks... well, to everyone. I gathered my resolve and made my way back to the family.

A peek into the dining room confirmed my assumption: The dishes had been cleared, to make room for the dessert that Kyra had mentioned. The five had resumed their places in the living room, and I padded toward Aleksandr, who sat on the sofa and patted the space next to him.

"You look reasonably sound," he teased me softly. "How are you feeling?"

I sat next to him, leaned over to give him a kiss to the side of his muzzle, then turned to the rest of the company. "Not overstepping, I hope?"

"Not a bit." Lorita planted a kiss to Dmitri's muzzle and, not to be outdone, the king and queen of the house leaned over the arms of their chairs to give each other a good lips-to-lips kiss. Aleks put his arm around me and snugged me warmly.

"Too soon for blini?" Kyra asked.

"In just a moment, please," I said. "I'd like to know what you said just before your..." I grinned at them all. "...interlocution."

Dmitri flinched. "You thought we were interrogating you?"

"Absolutely not," I chuckled softly. "I'm teasing you with a similar-sounding word. An 'interlocutor' is someone engaged in a dialog. It's one of those five-dollar words used by smarty-pants academics sometimes. I wanted to see if I could make the joke."

The older brother looked at the younger. "Head-slap him for me, would you?"

"I'll put it on his tab."

"Must be a big one, I think," Marsey chuckled, and all the lions joined him. At length, he said, "Nepravil'nykh otvetov net. 'There are no wrong answers'."

Nodding slowly, I said, "Thank you. All of you made that true for me, and I thank you so very much." I started to move out of my lion's embrace, forestalling the others from rising. "Before our dessert, just one more thing."

I took a breath, let it out slowly, looking to each of them in turn. "In romantic comedies, this is the point where I'd be expected to kneel and ask Aleks to marry me. The topic has come up between us, so it's a long way from 'impossible.' It's also a huge leap, especially this soon; there's a lot of talking left to do. There is, however, a pledge I would like to undertake, to hold true with all my heart, and I want to share this moment with all of you."

Turning to Aleks, I took both of his forepaws into my own, I looked into his beautiful eyes and spoke softly. "Aleksandr Marseyavitch Pyotr-Pavel Maschenko... moy dorogoy... ya budu lyubit? tebya vechno."

Raising his forepaws to my lips, I kissed them warmly before he took them from me and wrapped me in his strong arms. His chin lay atop my head, and my face was buried in the lower part of his lavish mane. I heard the praises of softly clapping paws and Lorita's quiet exhalation of breath, something like a sob, the kind more likely heard at a happy occasion than a sad one. I both heard and felt Sasha's chest hitch as he gave me a tender squeeze before sitting back to look into my eyes again.

"I will love you forever," he translated. "Always and forever, moy medved?."

For a long moment, the room was quiet, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. It was then that my sweet lion slowly leaned in for a tender, chaste kiss to my lips that took away any fear that I was trying to create for myself. He pulled back again, and I saw in his eyes all the reasons why had no excuses not to be happy.

We rearranged ourselves to each other again, and I looked at the others... at my family. I smiled at them. "I hope my accent is good. I'm also glad that means what I thought it meant. I'm not always sure of my translations."

"We will always help," Kyra said, her face showing the most radiant smile I'd ever seen in my life. "It is what family does for each other."

"Yes," I agreed softly, and then asked, with a grin, "Any more questions before dessert?"

"Just one," Dmitri asked, his eyes flickering with mischief. "Have you seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding?"

_"U menya tri yaichka!"_Marsey declared proudly.

No one had to translate that.