"Here, too. If they knew about him." Duce shakes her head slightly, correcting her previous statement, "We meant..because he's your boyfriend. While he's not at physical risk, is he aware.. are you aware.. of the kinds of idiocy that might be hurled at him? At you?" She tilts her hand palm-up, fingers slightly cupped, "We ask because we're honestly not sure he has any clue. He's so cavalier about everything. And.. we know he's a catty enough bitch to take any nasty words hurled at him, but it will cut him, Alex, to hear those same things said about you. Especially if he doesn't know they might be."

"Humans are indeed humans," Duce notes, "and some days, that's what frightens us most. In this world, he's more at risk of having someone gaybash him than having the CIA hunting him down to be the guest of honor at a black-ops banquet. Our technology just isn't good enough to identify him if he doesn't make himself obvious."

She doesn't sound as if either thought pleases her in the slightest. Her tone is calm, quiet, and holds the promise of prolonged, painful death to anyone who brings pain to her friends.