I know. [IT'S CALLED HAVING A CONVERSATION ROYCE GOSH. His sharp gaze flicks back to the crown, and there's another flicker of curiosity, but instead he's quiet for a minute.
A part of him wants to ask "why is there a jail cell on your floor", but he's about 90% sure that the answer is going to be "idk dumbass think about it", so. Instead--]
[there are very few exceptions to the rule, but for the most part he just does not give two shits about the people here in comparison to the woman he's been in love with for like eleven years.]
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A part of him wants to ask "why is there a jail cell on your floor", but he's about 90% sure that the answer is going to be "idk dumbass think about it", so. Instead--]
You didn't strike me as the type to prefer roses.
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I didn't, until I met my wife.
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"Not for anyone here", right?
[Their loyalties are stronger than this place, it seems. No wonder they get along.]
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[there are very few exceptions to the rule, but for the most part he just does not give two shits about the people here in comparison to the woman he's been in love with for like eleven years.]
She's more important to me than anything else.
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[He reaches for the bottle, pouring them both a little more wine, then lifts his glass, holding it out for a toast.]
To the ones that matter.
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To the ones that matter. [repeated, soft.]