[Neither of them should be doing any of this. He shouldn't have wandered into the garden. She shouldn't have lingered behind, and instead gone in to wait for her wayward lover to return. She was only teasing him, with her ridiculous little joke, the impossible insinuation that he would be looking for her—but he answers her utmost seriousness, and she never expected him to take her mischievousness at face value.]
I...
[He's flustered her, her heart fluttering in her throat, surprise written across her features. Perhaps it's because the hopeless romantic in her, despite all her cynicism for the institution of marriage, is helplessly weak when it comes to those syrupy lines and sickly-sweet praises. Or maybe, because the last person to speak to her with such warmth and affection has now left her feeling so shaken and frightened, with his ideas of the future he has planned for them, persistently coaxing her to agree. Or because, as much as they have merely been toying with the absurdity of the notion, if he really does mean it—]
You shouldn't.
[She abruptly agrees, with an embarrassed shake of her head. She is all too grateful when the moon disappears behind a patch of wispy clouds: hopefully it would hide the patches of red in her cheeks, all worked up into a tizzy once again. In an anxious gesture, she reaches up to straighten her diamond headpiece, although it really needs no such adjustments. And very suddenly, she finds she can't look directly at him, forcing her gaze down towards his knees.
Now would be the time to go in, to excuse herself and leave. But something in her wills her to stay, and she doesn't move away.]
no subject
I...
[He's flustered her, her heart fluttering in her throat, surprise written across her features. Perhaps it's because the hopeless romantic in her, despite all her cynicism for the institution of marriage, is helplessly weak when it comes to those syrupy lines and sickly-sweet praises. Or maybe, because the last person to speak to her with such warmth and affection has now left her feeling so shaken and frightened, with his ideas of the future he has planned for them, persistently coaxing her to agree. Or because, as much as they have merely been toying with the absurdity of the notion, if he really does mean it—]
You shouldn't.
[She abruptly agrees, with an embarrassed shake of her head. She is all too grateful when the moon disappears behind a patch of wispy clouds: hopefully it would hide the patches of red in her cheeks, all worked up into a tizzy once again. In an anxious gesture, she reaches up to straighten her diamond headpiece, although it really needs no such adjustments. And very suddenly, she finds she can't look directly at him, forcing her gaze down towards his knees.
Now would be the time to go in, to excuse herself and leave. But something in her wills her to stay, and she doesn't move away.]