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“Will you marry me?”
Anise looked thoroughly unimpressed. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Guy was shaking his head. “That was really lame.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m asking the girls. Natalia?”
“I’m afraid I have to agree. No woman is going to be swept off her feet by something so unoriginal.”
“You all suck,” Luke muttered. He knew better than to ask them, but just try keeping a secret from Anise.
“On the other hand,” Guy mused, “this is Tear we’re talking about.”
“True,” Anise replied.
“Yes, she might be the only person less romantic than Luke—”
“Hey!”
“—but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a romantic proposal. She’ll remember it for the rest of her life.” Natalia clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with possibilities. “All right, let’s write a script for him.”
“Good idea.” Anise produced writing materials from her desk, and Guy and Natalia stood on either side of her. “How should it start?”
“‘My beloved Mystearica,’” Natalia suggested, and Guy nodded in approval.
“Ugh,” Luke griped. “Who talks like that?”
“Guy does, don’t you, Guy.”
“Yes, my beloved Natalia.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a smarm factory like Guy is.”
“Smarm factory?” Guy threw his hands up. “That’s it. I’m out. You’re not getting any more help from me.”
“I didn’t want your help in the first place!”
Anise was scribbling away, not paying any attention to them. “Okay, what next? Something about her eyes?”
“And her hair. Women love getting compliments on their hair,” Natalia said, and Anise agreed as she continued writing.
“Fine, fine,” Luke said, “then can I say something about her b—”
“No!” Anise didn’t even let him finish the thought.
“Under no circumstances are you to say anything about her breasts,” Natalia ordered. “You know how sensitive she is about them.”
Luke suddenly got a goofy, faraway look on his face. “Yeah. She’s really, really… sensitive.”
Anise shuddered. “Ew. Did anyone else get creeped out just now?”
Guy was likewise traumatized. “It’s like thinking about Cheagles doing it.”
Natalia squeezed her eyes shut. “Now I have two disturbing pictures in my mind.”
That's more than five lines. It needed more than five. But then I got stuck. Because I'm creeped out, too.
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Sooner or later, he was going to get caught.
Ever since he had come to the conclusion that he was in love with the intrepid Princess, he looked for small ways to please her; little things to make her smile, to make her life a little easier without anyone noticing.
Opening doors and pulling out chairs was automatic, as was accompanying her when she slipped out of the palace into the city and countryside in order to see how her subjects were faring.
She loved her people and they loved her; he knew exactly how they felt.
He would cover up for her after their secret excursions; but even though his golden tongue and unquestionable loyalty made him the ideal false witness, idle chatter soon began to surface, wondering why whenever the Princess went missing, Guy Cecil always knew just where she was and what she'd been up to.
And soon she began to wonder too, one night, after they had scaled the walls and he had accompanied her as far as her chambers, she asked after a rare show of hesitation, "Why do you go to such lengths for me?"
"Because..." He swallowed. "You're my friend."
Sooner or later he was going to get caught, not for lying about their trips and betraying the King's trust; he wasn't worried about that. Sooner or later she was going catch him, catch onto the way he looked at her and the way she affected him.
And he had no idea what he was going to do then.
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dropsofviolet:
contemplative
