He smiles just slightly, then, not enough to be bright, but the very slight smile of someone who is certain of what he thinks. She is bright, there is no jealousy in her. She is the sun where Oriencor is the blinding brilliance of a glacier, cold.

He leans in, then, and presses a kiss to her cheek, closer to her ear than to her mouth. "Are you busy tonight?"

That is all. Are you busy tonight?