"He has—compelling personal qualities! Why am I talking about this."

"Enthusiasm about public works projects," encourages Ivan. "A disinterest in shirts. If I weren't so freaked out by the wings and the tail and did not have a girlfriend right now who knows. But I am very freaked by the wings and the tail. And the magic powers."

"Ugh, don't even joke, it would be just my luck to get a crush on a magical demon from another universe only to watch you sweep him off his feet."

"I screamed at the top of my lungs when I met him, Miles, I think even in the hypothetical where he's very much into men and has merely chosen ways to express this unknown within the Imperial Service you have nothing to worry about. Also, girlfriend, wings, tail, magic powers."

Miles brightens slightly. "It's true, you did."

"Are you actually going to attempt to date the magical demon?"

"Um. Probably not right away," Miles concedes. "There's bound to be some sort of conflict of interest involved. And I don't know if he's into men. I didn't even know I was into men."

"Maybe you're just into demons. Have you met a wide variety of demons?"

"No. I don't think the wings and the tail are a big positive contribution, though. Sort of mixed. And I don't think demons are that much of a separate category from humans apart from the wings-tail-magical-powers thing. I mean, if it weren't for those you really couldn't tell."

"No forked tongue, no horns, no subtle aura of brimstone."

"Yeah. And he was, actually, human once."

"Really?"

"Yep." Oh, dear, now he has to explain the rest. "Apparently in his world, there are four known divisions of the afterlife. Most people go to the very boring one and stay there in its boringness forever, but some people gain one of the three kinds of magical powers and end up in the appropriate section instead. Fairies, telekinesis, Fairyland; demons, conjuring matter, Hell; angels, transmuting matter, Heaven."

"...So he is literally a damned soul."

"Um. Sort of?"

"What do you mean, sort of, he died and went to hell!"

"I mean that as far as I know there's not, like, eternal torment or any kind of moral judgment involved."

"So he's slightly damned. He's darned."

...Miles snickers.

"Pity there's not a good corresponding word for the other kinds."

"Faintly blessed. Mildly fey."

"Enh."

The first thing Miles says on seeing the coat is, "As a long-time beneficiary of the art of deceptive tailoring: damn, you're good."

Cam snickers. "It helps that I didn't have to learn to sew. Do you require any deceptively tailored clothes you do not already have?"