Friends and Family 13

Chapter 13

Luke curled into the corner of the sofa, his socked feet tucked under him. He was wearing one of Tilden’s oversized sweaters, which hung to his knees and fell off his shoulders. Tilden had dressed in what Luke had come to think of as Tilden’s professional teaching wear, corduroys and a flannel shirt. Mike was in jeans and a turtleneck after a quick argument that shorts weren’t suitable for Massachusetts in December.

They’d agreed this morning to do the interview together, and Tilden was answering a slew of background questions. Luke wasn’t listening. He was watching the fire and the two filmmakers. Milton, Mace, and Trent had all given Mark and Bryce good marks on being civilized, and at least when Luke was listening they hadn’t asked about spanking. They seemed more interested in exploring Tilden’s academic history, and he was happily discussing graduate school. Tilden was telling some funny story about his time in Moscow, and both filmmakers laughed, Bryce a short, sharp laugh before he dropped his head back to his notes.

Milton had pegged the man as a submissive, but Luke didn’t know. He could hardly tell Mace was a sub. Bryce had seemed tired this morning; the film crew had eaten with them. Sunday mornings during winter break Trent and Mace didn’t open the cafe, but Trent with his easy generosity had insisted the movie people breakfast with them rather than face the fast food swill ten minutes down the road. Mark had been all smiles and talked about the trials of filming in countries with spotty electricity, but Bryce had only grunted that he wasn’t a morning person and pushed the food around his plate. 

All three tops had glanced over at Bryce’s uneaten food, now stirred into a congealed mass of cooling eggs and smashed sausage, but hadn’t said anything. Trent had picked up the plate with everyone else’s. “If you get hungry later, there’s always food in the kitchen, and I’ll make sure there’s hot coffee and tea all day.”

Bryce had nodded and ducked his head, and it was finally Mark who acknowledged Trent. “Thank you. Bryce never eats in the morning. He’d rather not open his eyes till noon.” 

Bryce was being talkative now. “When did you realize you were a top?” he asked Tilden.

“It wasn’t like it was a light switch that one day I flipped and I was a top,” Tilden said. “For me, it was similar to learning Russian. I learned a few words, some rules of grammar and experimented with them. Gradually the pieces fell together, and I was a top. Of course having Milton as a close friend pushed the whole process along, especially after he and Sheldon got together.”

“How did you and Milton meet?” Bryce asked.

“In college and then we went to the same university for graduate courses when I wasn’t in Russia. Milton’s a historian, but he has a special interest in Eastern Europe, so he needed Slavic languages. Some of our course work was together.”

“How did you end up owning a house together?”

“Milton and I both had jobs here, and it sure beat living in an apartment. Neither of us could buy a house on one salary, but combined it worked out well. Is that the question you wanted to ask, or did you want to know if Milton and I were ever lovers?” Tilden raised his eyebrows, and Luke could tell by the violet sparkles that Tilden was laughing.

Bryce blushed. “That too if you’re bringing it up.”

“We’ve never been lovers. I don’t know.” Tilden shrugged. ”It just never seemed the right thing to do. Milton says now it’s because we’re both tops. I didn’t know what a top was when I first met him. I had a rude awakening to the whole thing.” Tilden laughed and reached down and ruffled Mike’s hair. 

Mike had plopped himself on the floor, leaning against Tilden’s legs. He’d been watching the two filmmakers through half slitted eyes, and Luke couldn’t decide if Mike was trying to be sultry and sexy or concentrating hard. Luke suspected the former because he’d seen that act  before with Mike. Tilden hated it. For a man who lived in a nest of moral debauchery—or at least that’s what the crazies from Texas would call it and even here a threesome and a house full of men turned heads—Tilden was old-fashioned about his moral code. He and Mike still skirmished about appropriate attire.

“When did you find out Milton was a top?”

“I knew Milton long before Sheldon, and I was rather naive about this whole power exchange thing. I wasn’t very socially sophisticated; my idea of a hot evening was a poetry reading, preferably in Russian.”

“So how did you find out?” Bryce asked again.

Tilden half smiled. “I had an interesting encounter with one of Milton’s mentors.”

“It was a scene party?”

“Not with leather and whips, but I believe the guests were all practicing some sort of power exchange, but I was unaware of that at the time. I was the naive, innocent boy from the upper Midwest.”

“It sounds as if your first experience wasn’t favorable,” Mark said, looking up from his note taking.

“I think you could characterize it in that manner.”

“But you still became a top?” Mark asked.

“I was always a top. I was merely unaware of it. After my accidental exposure at the party, Milton went out of his way to teach me. I think his own mentor gave him a push in that direction.”

“You trained to be a top?” Mark was watching Tilden closely and had signaled the two cameramen around to get a better view of Tilden’s face.

“In a way. Milton was formally trained in a manner that I understand is a dying art. He taught me mostly by example and occasionally with a gentle nudge in the right direction. Once Sheldon moved in I had a chance to see Milton interact daily with a young man who can be dramatic and is not afraid of public displays. Milton as the senior top in this household still provides guidance with Luke and Mike.”

“From the literature Milton and Gordon provided us with, my understanding is the Green Mountain Boys is a hierarchical organization with expected obedience.”

“To some degree. I think it was more that way in the beginning when these relationships were less in the open. Gordon is a traditional dominant with exacting standards.”

“Exacting,” Mike snorted. “More like draconian, medieval.”

“I take it you’ve had some encounters with Gordon Lewis?” Bryce said.

“He’s always been kind to Mike and Luke,” Tilden said, always the peacemaker.

“He’s only mean to tops then,” Mike said sarcastically.

“Mishka,” Tilden warned.

“You don’t like him either.”

“We’ve had our disagreements, but this is neither the time nor place to discuss it.”

Mark looked up from his notes, his blue eyes keen. Luke hoped they didn’t direct any questions toward him. He didn’t want to talk about Gordon; actually he didn’t want to talk about any of them. Why couldn’t they just let him live? He was happy here, wasn’t that enough?

Luke shifted nearer to Tilden, and Tilden reached out and pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around Luke’s shoulders. “Vsyo khorosho, Luka?”

“Khorosho.” Luke didn’t want to talk abut it. He hadn’t even realized it until a few days ago, but he’d met Mr. Lewis before the Green Mountain Boys, back when he was fifteen. Luke’s dad had frequent business meetings at the house on Saturday. He wanted to show off the overly appointed living room or the massive dining room chandelier. Luke didn’t care. At least he’d finally gotten old enough he could disappear. Teenagers were expected to be in the sulks, but unfortunately that day he hadn’t disappeared. Luke and his dad were screaming at each other. That wasn’t new, but in front of business colleagues it didn’t happen. Luke had grown up in this house, a temple to financial success. He knew how to behave in front of the rich and important.

Luke couldn’t even remember what the argument had been about. He was sure it had to be about school. It was what they always argued about. He remembered the vase in his hand. One of those antique things, valuable but hideous. A strong hand had caught Luke’s wrist.

“I wouldn’t throw that, my lad. Broken glassware never helps the cause—dreadful taste aside.”

It had been Gordon. Calm, unruffled, impeccably dressed, and holding Luke’s wrist in an unbreakable grip. Luke remembered putting the vase back on the table and feeling his face turn an unthinkable shade of red. He was a teenager, humiliated in front of his father’s business colleagues.

“Lad, we had a difficult drive in. Take my partner Landon into the kitchen and get him some lemonade.” Gordon had given Luke a gentle push toward the door, and Landon had dropped a hand on Luke’s shoulder and kept him going in the right direction. 

“If it makes you feel any better, Gordon will screw your dad financially for that little display,” Landon had said as soon as they were out of earshot. “He hates that and has no problems inflicting a little punishment of his own, and I’m thirsty.”

Luke didn’t remember much about the conversation in the kitchen—only that Landon hadn’t scolded Luke about screaming at his father or even asked about the cause of the argument. Instead, Landon had caught a glimpse of Luke’s sketchbook tossed across the kitchen counter, and they’d talked about art—funny stories about endless Dutch masters, names that Luke knew he should recognize but he didn’t know more than the most basic trivia game replies of most famous work or correct century. Landon with a great deal of glee could describe every fruit bowl.

“Luke.” Luke was startled out of his reverie by Mark. “Are you always this quiet?”

Luke nodded. Mike could chat enough for both of them. Why didn’t they ask him? 

Tilden ran his hand over Luke’s forehead, brushing the blond curls back. “Are you feeling OK, druzhok?”

Luke nodded again and buried his head in Tilden’s shoulder.

“Go get some tea. We’ll hold the fort here.” Tilden dropped a kiss on Luke’s head and slid him from the sofa.

Luke wanted to run, but he made himself walk to the door. He didn’t think He could manage any more questions from strangers. Mark and Bryce were nice enough, but they were still prying. He wanted Tilden and Mike for himself; he didn’t want to share them with the public.

Milton was in the kitchen, straddling a chair and drinking great gulps of coffee. To Luke’s surprise Gordon and Landon were at the table, Gordon talking intently to Milton and Landon scavenging around the kitchen for food while making pointed comments about some article in the paper he was reading.

“Luke,” Gordon said in his usual demanding way, not quite an order, but more than a request for his polite attention. “Why are you here, lad?”

“Tilden sent me for tea.” Luke had hoped to have the kitchen to himself. He’d wanted to slump over the table, lean on his elbows, and stir way too much sugar into the tea. Instead, he was going to be under the eagle eyes of two tops. Milton he could just about cope with alone but not with Gordon. 

“Are you OK, boy?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Why won’t people quit asking? I haven’t caught the plague, or the whooping cough, or tuberculosis. I’m tired of answering questions, and I want to be alone.” Luke would’ve run out of the kitchen, probably slamming a few doors in the process, if Landon hadn’t caught his arm.

“Boy,” Landon rumbled, “I don’t think that was the best way to talk to your friends, especially when two of them are as toppy as Gordon and Milton. I don’t think they appreciated being shouted at, and it didn’t seem fair. They’re not the ones asking the questions, are they?”

Luke felt a tear trickle down his nose. Shit! He was going to cry. It was one thing to cry with Tilden. He’d even come apart with Milton once, and Milton had been nice about it, but why did Luke always have to be the fool when Landon and Gordon were around.

“Sit down and have some tea.” Landon manhandled Luke into a chair.

Milton was behind Luke already pouring the tea. “You like this with way too much sugar than is good for you, don’t you, boy?” Milton said, dumping in two heaping teaspoons of sugar.

“Thanks,” Luke whispered, keeping his eyes down and taking the tea.

“What was that all about?” Landon asked, rubbing Luke’s knee. “I thought you were pretty mild except with that father of yours.”

“You remember,” Luke said, feeling his face go red. 

“Not until I put you together with your last name. I always thought your father should have been hit with that vase. It would have been a gift to the art world to shatter the thing.”

“Landon, don’t encourage the youngsters to throw things,” Gordon scolded, but his eyes were smiling.

“You remember that vase?” Landon shot back. “It was a horror.”

“Ghastly,” Gordon said, “but with the senior Griffith, pain in the wallet was an effective deterrent. His ranting at his boy cost him a pretty penny.”

“You really made him pay?” Luke asked shyly.

“Yes,” Gordon said simply. “He was angry. Angry people don’t make rational decisions, and I’m ruthless in business. It cost him.”

“Serves him right,” Luke said bitterly.

“That’s the spirit,” Landon said, giving Luke a playful nudge in the ribs. “I wanted to take you back to Vermont with us, but Gordon, always more rational, said that you were underage and we could be prosecuted for kidnapping. Did your dad tell you we offered you a summer job?”

“No.”

Landon swore under his breath.

“Careful, boy,” Gordon cautioned. “I can hear some of that.”

“You feel the same way,” Landon shot back.

“I prefer to express myself more eloquently, and I hold you to the same standard.”

Landon must have heard the shift in tone because his reply was a sincere “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Luke swallowed his tea, keeping his head down and enjoying the comfort of Landon’s hand resting on his knee. Landon was quiet for several minutes. Milton and Gordon were discussing something between themselves in a quiet undertone. “Are you feeling better now?” Landon asked with a slight smile. 

Luke nodded.

“Good.” Landon smiled broader this time. “If you’re feeling better then I think you owe the tops an apology. They were pretty kind not to let you have it for your little temper tantrum. Gordon can be death on tempers.”

Luke flushed. 

“Hey, don’t fret about it,” Landon said. “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen Gordon and me have a discussion. Unfortunately it usually ends with me draped over his knee. Neither of us like to back down. You’d think I’d learn by now. Talk to them.”

Luke cleared his throat, stumbling over the first few syllables. “Milton, Gordon, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Milton looked at Gordon, and even to Luke it was obvious Milton was inviting Gordon to reply. “I didn’t expect an outburst from you. Does Landon have you sorted out?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, sir,” Luke mumbled.

“Good, then you’re all settled with us.”

Luke felt his shoulders drop and heard a sigh escape his lips. 

“Lad, I’m not looking to punish other people’s boys. I’ll sort you out if no one else is available, but Tilden is in the other room, and for as mild as he can appear, he’s possessive about his boys. You’re his boy and rightly so. It’s a good match. Do you want to stay out here with Landon, or go back among the fine gentlemen with cameras?”

“I should be with them,” Luke mumbled softly.

“Speak up, boy.”

“I want to be with them,” Luke forced himself to say louder.

“Good lad. Off you go then.”

Luke wiped his hands on his pants. Gordon was being nice, or at least Luke thought this was being nice, but he still made Luke nervous. Gordon’s eyes could look right through you. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but it was like he projected the words onto Luke’s soul. Luke edged around the two tops to get back to the living room.

“Boy, come here.”

Luke froze. What had he done? Was he supposed to formally ask permission to leave?

“Come here,” Gordon pointed to the ground in front of his feet.

Luke shuffled closer, not taking his eyes off the kitchen floor and scrunching down further into his oversized sweater. He would never have made it to the designated spot if Gordon hadn’t reached out, captured Luke’s wrist, and towed him forward.

“Look at me, lad.”

Luke couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor.

“Look at me,” Gordon repeated, placing a finger under Luke’s chin. “Do I look mad?”

Luke shrugged.

“Do you not know, boy, or do you not want to say?”

Luke looked at Milton. He hated being put on the spot. What had he done?

“He’s not mad,” Milton mouthed.

“Milton,” Gordon growled, “let the boy answer for himself. Am I mad?” Gordon repeated to Luke.

Luke ran his tongue around his mouth, trying to find his voice. “No, sir.”

“Is that your answer or Milton’s?”

“Mine.”

“You don’t sound convinced. Look at me.”

Luke’s blue eyes stared at Gordon’s brown. Gordon had been a handsome man and still was for a man pushing seventy. His brown eyes were encircled by a mesh of fine lines—laugh lines. Luke hadn’t thought of Gordon as ever laughing, but the eyes were soft, and the graying eyebrows were raised in a quizzical manner. 

“You’re not mad?” Luke asked.

“No, I’m not.” Gordon brushed the hair away from Luke’s face. “You should get this boy’s hair cut,” Gordon said to Milton.

“It’s his hair.”

“When did you get so sassy?” Gordon lips quirked into a slight smile. “Luke, you’re a beautiful young man—smart, loyal, talented. You’re a wonderful submissive, more mild than your companion. Being a submissive and by nature being more reserved doesn’t mean you need to let people walk all over you. Tilden’s mild, but he’s not passive. A submissive gives his obedience and loyalty to tops who deserve it. Tilden is very deserving. All others must ask, not merely take. You can refuse.” Gordon kissed Luke’s forehead. “It’s a good thing that you didn’t spend that teenage summer with us. Landon and I would never have let you go. Off you go now. Tilden and Mike might needed those filmmakers sorted out.”

Mike and Tilden were laughing, real laughter, not the snorting sounds that Tilden made when he was annoyed nor the tense ha ha’s of anxiety. “Luke, here,” Tilden called in Russian and patted the sofa. Luke sat on the sofa, next to but not touching Tilden, which lasted for a second before Tilden draped an arm over Luke’s shoulder’s and pulled his partner close.

“They’re filming,” Luke spluttered.

“And who’s going to watch this besides a bunch of gay men. I think I can touch my own partner this way.” Tilden kissed Luke’s cheek. “I don’t worry about you, unlike your partner in crime who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Hey, I’m being good,” Mike protested, twisting around to glare at Tilden.

“I know you are, Misha.” Tilden laughed and ruffled the short brown hair. 

“Are you all right, Luke?” Mike asked, dropping his voice so the words wouldn’t be audible to the filmmakers.

“Yeah. Landon and Gordon are here.”

“Gordon didn’t give you a hard time?” Tilden asked, looking searchingly at Luke.

“No, I think he was being nice.”

“You think?” Tilden raised an eyebrow keeping his voice inaudible beyond the range of his two partners.

“Even nice, he’s intense, but I like Landon. What were you laughing about?”

“The time we went to the frat party and caveman Milton carried you out over his shoulder,” Mike said, still laughing. “He-man history professor.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Steady, boys.” Tilden rubbed the back of Luke’s neck.

“I spent half the night puking all over him, and I wasn’t even living here.” Mike rolled his eyes. “Shit! I was a jerk to you. I forced you to go.”

“Misha, Luka,” Tilden said softly, “it was a long time ago and no harm was done. You’ve both changed since then. I hope you’re happier; I know I am. I couldn’t imagine life without you two.”

“More peaceful,” Mike said.

“Dull,” Tilden replied and tousled Mike’s hair.

Luke snuggled against Tilden, worming his way under Tilden’s arm. “Are you glad you have us?”

Tilden kissed Luke’s head and tighten his hold. “Glad is not a strong enough word for it, my love. I can say the word yes in over fifty languages. Would that convince you?”

“One or two is sufficient.” Mike was now perched on one knee, half laughing and rolling his eyes around in his head like spinning cherries in a slot machine. 

“Don’t spoil it,” Tilden said and pulled Mike to his feet. “Come sit with us.”

“Isn’t this cozy? All three of us like peas in a pod.”

“Mishka,” Tilden warned.

“I’m not good at this warm and fuzzy stuff. It’s Luke who’s the sweet and charming boy. I’m the pain in the ass who came along for the ride.”

Tilden looped his arm around Mike, pulled him close, and kissed the side of his face. “The world would be a dull place if everyone was the same. You’re both perfect just the way you are.”

“My ass doesn’t seem to have gotten the perfect message.”

“Are you angling for more?”

“No, I’m just fine.”

“How did you become a threesome?” Bryce asked, trying to take charge of the conversation.

Tilden looked at his two partners. “Do you want me to take this question, or do you want to answer?”

Luke stayed quiet. He’d be happy not to answer any questions. It was comfortable against Tilden’s chest, and if Luke kept his eyes shut he could imagine that the filmmakers weren’t here.

“It wasn’t one of my better moments,” Mike said with a half laugh. “I’ll let Tilden tell it. He’ll probably make it less gruesome than I would.”

“You know from our discussion earlier that both Luke and I ended up the on Meet Your Mate as a bit of a lark. At least, Mike had the good sense not to participate in the show. I knew Mike and Luke were friends; they both sat together in Russian and created havoc.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Mike protested.

“Um, I beg to differ. I had to try to grade your homework. There was more red than black.” Tilden smiled to take the sting out of his words. “Back to my original story, I knew Luke and Mike had some sort of relationship, and it didn’t take long for me to realize they were more than friends and roommates, so we became a threesome.”

“It wasn’t that neat and tidy,” Mike said, squirming around on the sofa.

“That’s for you to tell if you want.”

“Come on, what’s the real story?” Bryce asked.

“I made a pest of myself until in desperation Tilden took me in. He dragged me home by my collar, dusted my fanny so to speak, and kept me.” Mike grinned. “My strategy wouldn’t make Men’s Home Journal, but it worked.”

“I don’t think there is a Men’s Home Journal,” Tilden said dryly.

“You knew you were a submissive?” Bryce asked. Luke looked up and caught the filmmaker’s eye. Bryce looked genuinely curious. Luke hadn’t understood what it meant to be a sub. He’d heard the word tossed around in reference to himself, and Mike had insisted that Luke was a brat. Mike had seemed to know about it. Mike had been the instigator in getting Luke on the TV show. 

“I knew,” Mike said with a slight grin. “No, in all seriousness, I was lucky. I spent a summer with an established couple in a power exchange. They taught me about myself, even though Frank insisted I was too young to make the decision.”

“How old were you?” Bryce asked.

“Fifteen.”

“Do all subs and tops know that early?”

“No,” Tilden said. “Milton was training to be a dominant in his late teens, but he grew up in a household that included a formalized power exchange. Trent and Mace found their way into this later. I don’t think there is a typical or normal path to this or any other relationship.”

“Do you think all dominants and submissives eventually find themselves in a power exchange?” Mark asked.

“No.” Tilden rubbed his boys’ shoulders. “Milton shaped me into a top. I don’t think I would have found this on my own. I’m not the type to frequent clubs and bars or to search dusty shelves in seedy bookstores.” Tilden was silent for a moment, continuing to rubs his partners’ shoulders. “I like being a top, and I think this relationship makes the three of us very happy, but I don’t know if I would have ever stumbled into it without a hefty push from Milton and Sheldon. Mike knew what he wanted, and I think he would have found it eventually. He’s also tough enough and savvy enough to fend off impostor tops.” Tilden fell silent.

Luke knew Tilden didn’t want to say what they all knew. Luke had been failing life miserably. He’d gotten blindingly lucky. He didn’t have Mike’s streets smarts, and Luke hadn’t known where to turn. Gordon would have helped him, as frightening as that thought could seem, but Luke wouldn’t have known to ask.

“What about you, Luke?” Bryce asked.

Luke burrowed against Tilden. He should have stayed in the kitchen. Being grilled by Gordon was better than answering these questions.

“Luka, ne nado otvechat’. You don’t need to answer.”

Tilden with his Russian. He knew Luke was nervous; Tilden always knew. “I needed a top,” Luke said almost inaudibly.” I wasn’t managing on my own.”

“That’s not a character flaw. You could manage on your own; you just prefer not to.” Tilden said, kissing Luke’s hair. “I like to manage. Boss is the less charitable way to put it. We’re a good match. What would all of us tops do if there were no people to top? It would be like cake without ice cream. Milton and I would be at each other’s throats.”

“So you believe a submissive can function without a dominant?” Mark asked.

“Of course. Thousands suppress the tendency to some degree. Some hide it from acquaintances and colleagues; others hide it from family, and some hide it even from themselves. It’s hard to embrace being different.”

“It’s more openly discussed today. Do you still feel different?” Mark asked.

“At home, no. Last week in Florida, we were all reminded how different we are. This interview is a reminder of our differences, even thought you are trying to be tactful. Why not randomly choose three couples? Why choose us?”

“I’ll answer that,” Mark said calmly. “I won’t deny I’ve been interested in the concept of dom and sub away from the obvious club definitions for several years and the idea of a benign power sharing relationship, but as importantly, I’m fascinated by the sense of family you’ve built in this house and within your community under the umbrella of the Green Mountain Boys. If you have seen my films, you know I have an interest in communities, whether it’s a remote fishing village in the Pacific islands or monks on the North Sea. Today most people live in an isolated bubble. They may live hundreds or thousands of kilometers from their family, and many only know their neighbors by sight. Here you have a created new family. I think you’re closer to Milton than I am to my own brother.

“Joshua—that’s the older silver haired man—came over this morning. He had Steve with him —a relationship I don’t entirely understand.” Mark held up his hand to keep Tilden from explaining. “I’m sure Joshua will give me all the details. I can see that both Steve and Blade are part of this family. Sheldon hugged Joshua unashamedly and even Blade was only mildly skittish and submitted to Joshua ruffling his hair.”

“He’s new at this,” Tilden said.

“I figured that, and is he in some kind of trouble? He seems to be always under the eyes of one of the tops, especially Milton. I had the impression that Joshua was hired muscle as a peacekeeper and a supervisor.”

“They’re remodeling the garage,” Tilden said diplomatically, “And Joshua does construction professionally.”

Mike snorted. “He’s a hired gun. Blade and Sheldon are trying to rip each other’s throats out.”

“Mishka.”

“Well, it’s true. You saw Milton sit between the two of them at breakfast, and the look he gave them dropped the temperature in the kitchen by ten degrees. It’s not like Sheldon’s discreet about it.”

“You wouldn’t like Sheldon talking about difficulties between us,” Tilden said mildly.

“Fine. I get your point.”

“Misha, careful.” Tilden dropped his voice, a clear warning in his tone. “As you can see,” Tilden continued in his university professor’s tone, “our families are intertwined. Privacy is scare, but we aren’t lonely either.”

Tilden and Mark continued to chat about communal living, drawing some comparisons to both kibbutz and monastic living. It was safe and boring; Luke wasn’t interested. He shut his eyes and let the hum of the conversation drift over him.