Juliana raised an eyebrow. "Socialist politics?" she repeated. This was a surprise, because they had never discussed anything political before, except in the very particular context of laws pertaining to lycanthropy and the werewolf registry. She knew his opinions on that (namely, that she was too optimistic in her vision for eventual change), but, she was realizing now, on precisely nothing else. She wasn't exactly a politico by nature, though, so she didn't really know what to make of the phrase. What were socialist politics? It sounded vaguely like the sort of thing her mother might be distressed to hear she'd been learning about in conversations with strange men at bars, but her mother wasn't going to hear about this, and — well, she liked him, and trusted him, so she was inclined to think that if he was invested in them they couldn't be that bad.