Then again, Dex was from a soggy island that kept insisting he produce his documents because he couldn’t possibly be a rightful citizen, so he was one to talk.
“I was wondering if you’d—if you’d tell me more about you. Your family. What are they like?”
“Oh.” Dex squirmed. If not for their earlier conversation, this would’ve been a totally normal thing to ask. But what if—what if this was Nick’s way of touristing through Black culture or whatever, and Dex was just a temporary guide? He wanted to snarl from frustration. This was Nick, and Nick wouldn’t do that. Would he? You barely know him, a voice insisted. He felt hot and cold all over. Nick wanted to know about his family, not just a family. Christ, Dexter, what is wrong with you?
He attempted to gather his non-vicious thoughts, stret
