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They were doing it over tea and nibbles.
The contrast was disconcerting. It wasn't that he was accusing Nightingale of anything, certainly not of hurting Molly. Except that it was sort of exactly what he was kind of doing. Not really, but that witness had been so sure. Two decades in the past or not, he needed to ask the question.
Nightingale had held one hand up, told him to bring Beverly to lunch tomorrow and they would speak then.
So there they were, the four of them.
"Molly is not human of course,” said Nightingale. “And indeed, neither is her reproductive cycle.”
Peter stilled very visibly.
A delighted grin spread ever so slowly over Beverly's face. Molly seemed to reinforce the moment by picking up a piece of raw, dripping meat and disappearing it behind her fangs. Nightingale finished pouring the tea.
“Creatures of the demi-monde are all unique in their own respects regarding such things, though I am ignorant of much myself I am certain that Beverly,” here he nodded respectfully towards her, “will be far more knowledgable than myself.”
“Creatures?”
“My apologies, I mean the term no more or less than in regards to humans.” He turned his attention back to Peter. “The long and short of it is thus: yes it is possible that somewhat physically exacting interactions occurred. It should not have been possible to witness them but I suppose if one was determined. You said the witness accusation was in a journal, yes?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you have a date?”
“1980 I think?”
“Ah.”
“So it's... accurate?”
“I don't know I haven't read it but it sounds as if it has been misconstrued.”
“Right, but the two of you were...”
“Yes. Consensually I might stress.”
“It's alright, we don't need to go into detail on -”
“No.” Interrupted Nightingale. “We have broached the subject and as I have informed you previously we will complete a debrief on it, in full, before this conversation ends.”
Molly and Beverley were both smirking at him, he could feel it.
Nightingale didn't seem to notice.
“Then hopefully never speak of it again,” he concluded.
“If that's what you'd like boss.”
“My preference has little to do with it,” he rebuked. “You wished to ascertain that I was not abusing my position and that Molly was not being subject to actions under duress. Am I correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then you cannot possibly have ascertained otherwise with the recitation of a simple biological statement. Unless somehow you are capable of such a thing?”
“No.”
“No.” Nightingale leaned back against his chair and gave a short sigh. “Do not mistake me Peter, your intent to protect Molly is admirable.”
Peter raised his eyes enough to watch Nightingale again, who had taken his turn to look at his own hands as he spoke.
“It is also much appreciated. As is your determination to question my actions when you believe they may be worthy of interrogation. You walk an admirable path. A difficult path. It is not one you will deviate from due to your own discomfort, am I clear?”
“You are,” said Peter slowly. “And I believe in you, I do. I just... wanted to make sure.”
“For Molly's sake,” he nodded. “I understand. I'm proud of you for that. It does not however make this conversation any easier.”
There was another, silent, conversation passing between Beverly and Molly. Bev who'd gone from 'ready to throw down' to 'this is hilarious' which totally threw Peter.
“What?” He asked her.
Bev just giggled. He heard Nightingale sigh.
“What are they laughing about?”
“I believe they are laughing at us.”
The not-laughing became a little louder as they both lost a fight to keep it quiet.
“I'm afraid amongst the demi-monde our... considerations around such things are deemed to be somewhat quaint.”
“Sometimes you say words I know but none of it makes sense.”
“Welcome to most of my conversations with you.”
Bev did burst out laughing at that.
“We're prudish, Peter. Compared to most residents of the demi-monde in regards to... various reproductive... requirements.”
“No idea why,” said Bev. “Totally normal for a grown man not to use the word 'sex' while talking around a sex talk. Men,” she shook her head. “Humans. The amount you talk around things is ridiculous.”
Nightingale elected to ignore her.
“Molly is a member of a species much longer lived than our own.”
“How old are you?” He asked Molly.
Molly inclined her head towards Nightingale.
“We are almost of an age,” he said.
“So a century, at the very least.”
“Quite. As such their reproductive cycles are accordingly at much longer intervals than humans. In...” he hesitated and turned his attention to Molly. “I must seek your specific permission to speak of such personal matters?”
Molly looked somewhere between amused and touched as she inclined her head again.
Nightingale cleared his throat.
“In Molly's particular case that's approximately once every five years, presenting itself as something more akin to a 'heat' than anything else.”
“So once every five years you and Molly...”
Peter caught himself before he finished that sentence with 'shag like bunnies'.
Bev rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible.
“Come on you,” she reached out and took Molly's wrist. “Let's have a version of this conversation that isn't ridiculously constipated.”
Molly went happily.
When the door closed behind them Nightingale cleared his throat once more.
“Sequester ourselves within the folly, yes. The duration of which is usually a week to a fortnight. Though full physical recovery on my end will often take a bit longer.”
“Okay. Okay now I'm wanting to check that you're not being taken advantage of.”
“I assure you the consequences are quite acceptable. I certainly wasn't complaining about the manner I endured them at the time.”
“No,” said Peter. “Not that. That's a consenting adult thing. I just wasn't sure that you were ever really into, y'know. Women?”
“Ah I see.” Nightingale paused for a moment. “No, no I don't suppose I am. Though I've never truly had an interest in gentlemen either. I did wonder for a while if I was incubating something distasteful: bestiality, ephebophilia, paedophilia. Thankfully not. I was always just somewhat inert in that regard.”
“So you don't want to have sex at all?
Peter wasn't sure what Nightingale read in his face but he hurried to speak again, as much as Nightingale ever did.
“You must understand Peter, my interactions with Molly are entirely consenting.”
“You don't exactly sound enthusiastic about it.”
“Because I'm prone to such outbursts of enthusiasm..”
“You just said you're ace-spec but Molly climbs you like a tree on a well spaced out but regular basis.”
“What on earth does aspic have to do with any of it.”
“What's aspic?”
“You used the term, one can assume you're familiar with it.”
Peters face was puzzled. “You mean ace spec?”
“Yes, whatever that is.”
“Oh. Um.” Peter gave a short explanation that become longer and then a little bit longer still as Nightingale leaned towards him and verbally poked.
He leaned back in his chair like he was winded.
“I didn't know there was a word for it.”
“Guess queer rights weren't really much of a thing when you were younger. I guess visibility wasn't -”
“That means there are others?”
“Yeah.”
Nightingale looked like he'd been slapped.
“There are others,” he repeated. “This is a known abberation? This is a normal...”
“That's all I really know. Abigail knows more.”
“I think I need something stronger than tea.”
“Like I said Abigail knows more'n me but y'know, if it sounds it.”
“I don't know what its like for other people but I always... I've never felt physical attraction, but that doesn't mean I haven't engaged in the practice of physical interaction previously.”
“No offence but why would you want to have sex if you don't desire anyone?”
“Welcome to my world,” said Nightingale with a crinkle around his eyes.
“Huh.”
“There are of course reasons but they have to be compelling and I imagine they are different to those most commonly expressed.”
“Do you... enjoy it?”
“I rather imagine that depends. The physical event itself is baffling as a concept, in terms of desirability. The act however can be quite pleasurable in practice but so can,” he gestured in the air. “Rhubarb crumble or fresh salmon.”
“Huh.”
“I've known it to be a chore, unwanted, unpleasant but I've also known it to be delightful. Exhilarating even. I just find that if one is desiring the release of hormones one is better off seeing to it oneself. Involving other people often just seems odd.”
“Okay.”
“I'm not being taken advantage of Peter, neither is Molly. Molly is my oldest and dearest friend and I seem to be her preference in this regard.”
“You look forward to it?”
“Not so much but that's rather because I don't think about it. It doesn't occur to me any more than sex in general does but when the time comes... yes, there's an element of anticipation. Molly lets me know by setting out a particular outfit for the opening activities as it were, the hunting.”
“Hunting?”
“Molly's species are predatory. Play hunting each other I believe is an expression of trust, friendliness, fun and in this case I believe foreplay.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Right.”
“I must say that it has been some time since I have seen those things laid out upon my night stand and not felt an unbidden smile draw across my features. An invitation to go play,” he smiled to himself. “You should see her in those moments, it is truly magnificent.”
“I've had Molly almost rip my throat out before,” he shook his head. “I don't think I want another go.”
The edges of Nightingale's eyes crinkled. Peter wasn't sure that was funny.
“Besides that probably sounds like a privacy thing.”
“Hmm, perhaps.”
“Or at least I hope it is.”
Nightingale barked a surprised laugh. “Relax Peter, you shan't be wandering in to find us in a state of undress in the foyer.”
“Not gonna pretend I'm not glad to hear that.”
“Cheeky whelp, you never know, you might learn a thing or two.”
“Boss I've seen your work outs of late, I ain't learning nothing needs that bruv.”
“Well, none the less. You're right of course, we will likely have to make some modifications to procedures given your new place within the Folly. We can hardly shut you out for a fortnight and if you're particularly sensitive about encountering Molly during that period there may be some concerns.”
“Is she, y'know, capable of reason and that sort of thing?”
“Where on earth did that come from?”
“Well, yknow...”
“Ah. Because one must be beyond the reach of reason to believe that I am beddable?”
“No,” squeaked Peter, voice reaching an octave he hadn't hit since his parts descended. “I just mean – there was – it - “
Nightingale was watching him with raised eyebrows and a far too innocent expression.
“You're a right wind up merchant, how did I not know this about you?”
“I have no idea what you're speaking of.”
Peter shook his head. “There was an implication it was y'know, painful for her without it...”
“I believe the distress is only present when one attempts to deny the biological imperative that presents itself. It can be delayed or defeated by self control for a period of time. Molly is capable of enduring much, but she prefers not to in this regard. I much rather she not either. I never liked seeing her in pain.”
Peter nodded.
“Well, some pain is a given but its always... more like boxing than anything. Molly pulls her punches, I pull my impellos. And before you register concern I do wear protection.”
Peter's eyes widened, that had not been in his head.
“Both neck and torso,” he continued.
“Right! Right, because claws. And teeth. Big teeth.”
Except now the image was in his head, tiny Molly-Nightingale hybrids running around the building, stalking him from the shadows. Something must have shown in his face.
“Molly's careful,” said Nightingale, as reassuring as he'd ever been. “I trust her.”
“Gotcha. I'm sure.”
Nightingale gave him a fond smile
“You actually like it.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Is it the danger,” Peter tilted his head. “Or the trust?”
“I...” Nightingale looked non-plussed. “I don't suppose I've ever thought about it.”
“Huh. I mean weird but I get it. I think. It's like why people like roller coasters isn't it?”
“Pardon me?”
“It's the rush right? I mean it might go wrong, its really rare that it does but your bodies getting all the rush of danger and nearly dying from a place of safety. Right?”
Nightingale blinked. “I feel like this is more than I signed up for.”
“And maybe that makes even more sense for someone who doesn't have the whole lust thing to satisfy,” Peter barrelled on. “Endorphins, pseudo trauma bonding, physical pleasure from the stuff that comes after.”
“Are you quite finished with amateur psychology hour?”
“Do you think next time you could -”
Nightingale glowered.
“Never mind.”
“Quite.”
The door to the study opened.
Molly and Bev came back from whatever girl talk they'd been having, Bev's eyes disturbingly full of appraisal as she looked Nightingale up and down. If anything Nightingale's perfect posture became even more so as he raised an eyebrow and stared her down. Her expression turned to one of playfulness and desire that Peter was not thrilled to see her give to his own boss. While Nightingale would never stoop so low to give as undignified a response as a snort Peter got the impression of it none the less.
“Come on you,” said Bev. “We're all good.”
“Sure, talk later boss.”
“Indeed, sleep well.”
The door closed behind them and a few moments later there was the mumble of conversation followed by a squak.
“I am not having a threesome with Nightingale!”
Followed by a peal of Beverly's laughter.
Molly's eyes sparkled with amusement as she raised an eyebrow at him.
“They're not really my type.”
Molly showed her fangs and ran the tip of her long black tongue over the points in emphasis.
“I believe Peter would point out the problem with sample size in that assertion.”
It gave Nightingale quite the satisfaction to hear the rythmic hissing of Molly's laughter and even when she drew her hand automatically to hide her mouth as she did, the gesture did nothing to remove the pride and happiness he felt at her having shown them to him so pointedly before.
They smiled at one another as Molly brushed passed and went on her way. Nightingale felt a beloved and thankfully familiar warmth inside, for Molly and Peter both. It was still difficult to come out with the words to either of them but he knew what he felt, and what he hoped they felt in turn.
Toby broke the moment by jumping into his lap.
“Yes, you too brave hound. Let us not forget our steadfast guardian of the home stead.” Nightingale paused. “What's in your mouth?”