When you've got it, you've got it!

When Addam Origo, of Aureus Palace, proposed to Flora Hentisane, of Heblin Schoolhouse, there wasn't much space for an objection to be made. Though his proposition was given in the form of the traditional question (though a little bit skewed, with a "would" instead of a "will" because he doubted himself, the dear, just that much), it was awkwardly, and then again conveniently, laid in the space of the traditional discussion; not in front of people, nor without the proper air about.

The affair was sensible as well as reasonable, if a little bit more round than square, and thus it was just those round details directly that made grounds for hesitation.

Flora was a short woman and Addam was a tall man; their genetic lottery had counted them just so lucky, in that way. But with another of the same gender who'd gotten equally lucky, neither would ever have the chance to be self-conscious about it. Neither would ever be quite so faced with...the heterosexuality of it all.

"Of course I could never be your wife, I mean," her hands worked and the knuckles made soft cracks, "why, I would have to get on tiptoes just to give you a kiss on the cheek, and then where would we be?"

She'd gone from sounding somewhat distracted to turning full flustered, and her nose wrinkled right in time with the embarrassing state.

Addam, unfazed by any of it, said automatically and very quietly, "I would bend down."

Natural, wouldn't it be? And only right.

(To say nothing of the quasi-requisite rail against conservative rulemakers and lawmakers alike who'd say that feminism, and the vaguest general introduction of the idea of men making concessions for women, whenever it had come about, no matter how small or insignificant, had ruined the world. Not greed or corruption or violence, but the agreement that both parties to a marriage are both capable of doing and willing to do the laundry. No, no. Such a faraway planet you must live on if you believe that.)

(My apologies - this of all things must seem maximally irrelevant to Aletta's manor-bound. But...trust.)

Flora said nothing.

Addam, too, said nothing.

Eventually it was down to Minoth to break the strange, if endearing (endearing, if strange, rather), silence, and he couldn't even bring himself to cough - he tried, even, but got nowhere with it. Frog caught, as the gentle poets would say.

Ahem. Yes. "Okay, well, uh... I'll just. Go. Yeah? Seems like my work is done here. Nice seeing you both." And he meant it, too!

It was only once his turn on emblazoned heel had been half made that Flora snapped out of her adoring reverie and called after him, "Wait, Minoth!"

So he waited, eyebrows up and teeth ticking.

"This sounds horrible out of context, but...won't you bend down, too?"

By the Architect. But he stopped (fully, this time), and he turned (back again, back again).

"You're right. I hated hearing that." She grinned, wrinkling her nose this time consciously at her more purposefully contrived scenario. "But because you're Flora, sure I will."

A mirthful shout from Addam: "What, and nothing to do with me?"

Minoth swung his head around, letting the swish of his ponytail take maximal dramatic effect. "Not in the least, Prince." The dashing splay of hair settled, and Addam appeared to have been watching it, just as planned.

"Of course I could never be your husband, I mean," and Addam's eyes began to fidget wider, "why, you'd almost have to get on tiptoes just to give me a kiss on the cheek, and then where would we be?"

"On a different Alrest where you cared about that sort of thing, I should think," Flora answered smartly. Addam, to her side by relative measurements, added this exchange to his mental store for later moments of craftiness; experience it was and is that did a fine, statesmanlike prince make. "But I seem to recall a little special favoritism bending your habit...?"

Minoth nodded. "So you do. And so I will."

The little lady earned her promised cheek kisses after all, one for each tall fellow, and then the one that did want to marry her (and would, of course he'd always have to, because they loved each other so) walked home with her even though he was supposed to stay back home in the city, while the one that didn't want to marry either fetched himself off to the airdocks, and thought about how odd it was that the prince was a country farmboy, and the cowboy an elegant city slicker - each as aspirationally accorded, that is and was.