Best way to get over it, in Vrenille's experience, is simple immersion. Not necessarily throwing a guy in the deep end, but the way he sees it, remarks like these aren't the deep end. They're more like wading in from the toes on up. The deep end would be getting tied to a St. Andrew's Cross and flogged with no preamble, and he's already saved Mustang from that.
"Most people who do it text 'em--use their phones 'n send 'em electronically. No postman involved. There's a whole etiquette 'round it. 'Sexting.' But then you got the worry that what you meant to keep private might get splashed all over the network or on that damn 'Fibber' app anyway." That is probably getting into gibberish territory, so to explain he says: "Bottom line's just to remember that even the stuff you mean to keep private doesn't always stay that way in this place, no matter how careful you are."
As for their respective sexual proclivities, Vrenille smiles at the disclosure and says, quite honestly, "Yeah, me too." Exclusively men, in his case. But he doesn't belabour the point, just allows it to be a simple commonality, a point of consonance between them.
"So you wanna tell me 'bout those?" he nods to the shackles that Mustang still wears. He's inclined to take them off, and he thinks that they've perhaps built enough basis of rapport for him to trust doing so, but the first thing he wants is to hear the man's side of the story about why they've been put on him at all.
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Best way to get over it, in Vrenille's experience, is simple immersion. Not necessarily throwing a guy in the deep end, but the way he sees it, remarks like these aren't the deep end. They're more like wading in from the toes on up. The deep end would be getting tied to a St. Andrew's Cross and flogged with no preamble, and he's already saved Mustang from that.
"Most people who do it text 'em--use their phones 'n send 'em electronically. No postman involved. There's a whole etiquette 'round it. 'Sexting.' But then you got the worry that what you meant to keep private might get splashed all over the network or on that damn 'Fibber' app anyway." That is probably getting into gibberish territory, so to explain he says: "Bottom line's just to remember that even the stuff you mean to keep private doesn't always stay that way in this place, no matter how careful you are."
As for their respective sexual proclivities, Vrenille smiles at the disclosure and says, quite honestly, "Yeah, me too." Exclusively men, in his case. But he doesn't belabour the point, just allows it to be a simple commonality, a point of consonance between them.
"So you wanna tell me 'bout those?" he nods to the shackles that Mustang still wears. He's inclined to take them off, and he thinks that they've perhaps built enough basis of rapport for him to trust doing so, but the first thing he wants is to hear the man's side of the story about why they've been put on him at all.