“What is the worse torment of Love?” he asked.

“To be jealous of that which one cannot possess,” she said, “You know the story of the best friend, in love with the girl, and having to see her as she goes through any number of boyfriends? The worse torment is that, to him, it seems as if she would sleep with anyone but him.”

“Isn’t that Lust?”

“Is there a difference?”

“There are several sound evolutionary reasons surrounding fidelity – why you men are all bastards and why we let you get away with it.”

Despair spread his wings behind him as he stretched his arms. He smiled at Lust, “Evolution?”

“Surely you don’t believe in all that creation nonsense do you?”

“Of course I do; I was there.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t be silly. You saw the finished work, the whole sculpted out-of-clay thing is entirely metaphorical.”

“Since we’re going to talk about your ex, I want you to note that it was you who brought him up.”

A light tinkle passed as she laughed, “I brought him up all right, or at least I tried to, very unsuccessfully, trust. You lot never grow up.”

“Lil, this conversation will never get anywhere if you insist on gender warfare. And how can you deny Creation? You were created.”

“‘The last angel for the first man.’ But that doesn’t deny Evolution either.”

“So your point is that there are evolutionary reasons for infidelity, even though you don’t deny that He made us, evolution or not.”

“Yes.”

“Why, then, do you suppose He’d make us that way and then Command us not to do it?”

“You know He’s insecure – what’s the point of faith if it were easy?”

“Faith is everything.”

“The old party line! Did you hear she had a mortal lover?”

“Who did?”

“Faith. She left him after he cheated on her; devastated him, trust. It’s ironical on so many levels.”

“Politics to gossip…”

“And speaking of ex’s, you and her had a thing, no?”

“We have a lot in common.”

“Yes, I suppose you do,” She could see he was discomfited, and changed the subject, sort-of, “does it bother you, then? My torrid affairs?”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m faithful to you.”

“You’re not?!”

“There’s Envy, of course.”

“She doesn’t count. Unless you’re fucking her behind my back,” she paused, considering the configurations of their mutual experience, “as a figure of speech.”

“Of course. No, I haven’t. And no, it doesn’t bother me.”

“It should.”

“Why?”

“It’s a guy thing. It’s perfectly okay for you to sleep around, but you take it as a personal attack when it happens to you. Same as when a mortal will have a certain kind of girl for a partner and an entirely different kind for a wife. Of course you want it all, but not every girl can be a whore in the bedroom and no where else.”

“The way I see it, contrary to ‘the old party line’ and your bias against my gender, is that I don’t lose anything if you’re unfaithful, as long as we’re still together. If you left me for someone else, that’d be different, or if you slept with someone else, but not with me, that’d be a hell of a lot different. But ‘elsewise, nope, doesn’t bother me at all. I think it’s a good thing, since it’ll make you happier.”

She had heard this all before, of course, through other voices, some of them hers. Politely, she nodded, interested not so much in what he was saying in that it was him who was saying it. “All men are still bastards,” she said, by way of prompting.

“We want to be, yes, but that doesn’t mean we are. All men want to cheat, it’s in our nature – evolutionary reasons, if you insist on rationalising it – but that doesn’t mean all men do.”

“All men do, if given the opportunity. It’s just the stupid ones who get caught, trust. ‘Their best conscience, is not to leave undone, but kept unknown.’”

“Trust you to quote Iago. If you love someone, and you knew it’d hurt them, you might want to, but you wouldn’t. And women cheat too; besides you, normal women.”

“Women cheat not because they don’t love, but because they want to be loved, or they love someone as well.”

“So everyone cheats. I fail to see, politics aside, what all the fuss is about.”

“Well, if it were no longer forbidden, it wouldn’t be as fun.”

“That’s a good point, there.”

“What is the worse torment of Hope?” she asked.

“To be near something that you cannot touch,” he said, “You know the story of the best friend, in love with the girl, and having to see her as she goes through any number of boyfriends? The worse torment is that, to him, it seems as if he might, just maybe, have a chance, if he waited long enough.”

“Isn’t that Despair?”

“It is. Trust.”