[Soirée] When words fail, there is always music

[Caius Gawyne]

Zi'da 49, 717

Venora Charity Gala, Bellesoir, Venora

This song. Ugh.

"I don't fucking care." - Caiusquote™

'Cause I have hella feelings for you
I act like I don't fucking care
Like they ain't even there
'Cause I have hella feelings for you
I act like I don't fucking care
'Cause I'm so fucking scared
I'm only a fool for you
And maybe you're too good for me
I'm only a fool for you
But I don't fucking care, at all, oh

But, of course he does. Mmm.

They'd been seen together most of the evening, Caius for once in a long time far from embarrassed to be noticed if only because of the lovely blonde Venora by his side. Aware of the thoughts their proximity sparked in the minds of his noble kind, he in his typical form could care less. More than willing to fan the flames with touches and smiles, his intentions were not veiled from view. Rumors be damned, he was more than comfortable with the implications, perhaps because he'd considered the endpoints of all possible paths more than once already. Far more often than the average person, if only because the young Gawyne was both far too academic and far too much of an insomniac for a moment of true mental peace. As much as he told himself it was far too soon for decisive conclusions, unions had been arranged in far less time for far less valuable reasons than actual feelings.

Not that he was entirely ready to make such final decisions this moment, this trial, this season perhaps, but he also wasn't a sarding idiot and he knew that his time of freedom to make his own choices was slowly running out. More than that, he knew himself and he knew his feelings, somewhat caught off-guard by how the delicate pianist had managed to turn him inside out in so short a time as it had been since the pre-dawn breaks of their first meeting.

Not that things had at all been easy between the two of them, either, for Caius was certain that Darcyanna still held some lingering distrust after his lengthy deception, after he'd held back from her everything he'd revealed to Oliver when he'd first met her brother or how the two of them had conspired their intervention not because of Pythera but because of her choice of how to deal with the trauma, her addiction. Their short time together had bordered on the tumultuous, should the young Gawyne's perspective not been so sarding clouded by an ardent and furious infatuation.

Bogs.

What a glorious mess, whatever the cost.

Achingly stunning in her dress and her shoes, Caius felt perpetually distracted, her presence at his side enough to tie his tongue in even the simplest of conversations with others at the Gala. Her smile changed the tempo of his pulse and her hand on his arm was the most righteous act in all of Idalos for this one evening.

Still, as it all wore on, the northern noble grew restless, far too introverted for the entirety of the event and yet obligated to endure. It stretched him thin and he had little interest in drinking the edge of it softer, both because he knew he'd just get sleepy anyway and because he already barely held onto the few wits that he seemed to have at all when standing anywhere near the delicate pianist. Finally, the young Gawyne needed something else, and he waited for a lull in the conversation, for a moment when there weren't as many curious eyes on the pair together, drawing their welcomed conclusions,

"We should dance." Caius declared, leaning to whisper his suggestion, leaning for the excuse to brush warm lips against Darcy's ear, sarding unconcerned if he lingered inappropriately for a trill or two, "Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Venora?"

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

49th Zi’da, 717

Darcyanna sipped her wine delicately as she moved around Notrerevé, her smile light and her laughter polite. It was easy to fall into the act, offering up the picture perfect Venora with grace and poise. Nobles would ask about the state of affairs in Rynmere, and she would artfully flutter long eyelashes and steer them towards Oliver. Some asked after her, what was it she was doing and was she in Andaris or Verona. Dutifully, the blonde would repeat the answers, smiling and nodding all the while. Occasionally, she would seek out the familiar dark hair of her brother, closely followed by the deep red dress of Charlie Warrick, delighted to see them openly moving around as a couple. Oli deserved someone, needed someone, and Charlie got all the approving ticks from Darcy as that someone.

If the soirée were anywhere else, by this time the Venora would have already been high as a kite and the need to keep up appearances wouldn’t matter so much. As it were, she should have been on edge by now, jittery and looking for her little black bag. Except that each moment of the evening, there was another right by her side, fingers brushing hers lightly or an arm offered so very gentlemanly to keep her mind distracted.

And distracted she was.

The blonde couldn’t stop the smile she had for Caius, her bright sea blue eyes laced with lilac only for him. It was impossible for anyone attending the gala not to know by now that herself and Lord Gawyne were an item, the short pianist barely leaving his side and in almost constant contact. The Tulburns had made eyes, knowing eyes, as had The Hawthrights, and frankly Darcy couldn’t care less. Let them make eyes, let the rumours spin. In the end, all that mattered to the blonde was that she was with the Gawyne, here and now. What the future would bring well...the Venora was taking the trials one step at a time. Caius had already admitted once or twice he wasn’t really keen on commitment, and that when he did eventually marry it would be for love.

Did he love her?

After the dual deception from the taller diri, first with telling Oliver about Pythera and then the drugs immediately backed with the two men’s carefully plotted intervention, the young noblewoman hoped that it had come from love. It seemed an awful lot of heartache—and face ache—to go through if it wasn’t more than just a winter season infatuation.

Did she love him?

The blonde glanced at the taller man with a smile, letting the waffling of the socialites around her fade into the background. Her stomach swirled and her heart fluttered in her chest as her lilac eyes looked him over whilst he mingled.

Yes, it was possible that she did.

The evening wore on, and the conversation finally had a momentary break, leaving the couple alone for a bit or two. Darcyanna put down her glass and took a slow, deep breath, closing her eyes for a trill. It was exhausting, being what you were supposed to be, what people expected you to be. A hot flush swept over the blonde and her free hand trembled slightly. It would be so easy to excuse herself for a toiletry break...

Warm lips brushed her ear, and Darcy couldn’t help but smile, eyes still closed as the shivery sensation of the tall Gawyne’s breath tickled her skin.

“We should, I suppose. It is a gala after all.” Opening her silver rimmed gaze, the pale Venora pulled back to look up at him with a grin and a curtsy.

“It would be my pleasure, Lord Gawyne.” She said in a rather formal tone, offering her hand to allow the diri to escort her to the floor with a sweep of dusky pinks and rich purples.

[Caius Gawyne]

She was worn thin, too—like him but different—her resistance eroded not just by the social requirements of her station but also by her patience, by her active, willing choice to abstain from her addiction. Caius in his ignorance had no sarding idea the difficulty of it all, but he believed it was a surmountable struggle and attempted to make himself helpful even if he had no idea how to do so. He was observant enough, knew her enough by now to notice the small signs of impatient need, and yet she still smiled at him regardless.

Taking her hand, he grinned at the delicate pianist, thumb teasing lightly over her fingers as he led them to join the dancers during the momentary pause in the music that was meant to be an invitation. Finding them a place, he smiled admiringly, the mix of emotions churning in his irises as a swirl of emerald and amber,

"I'm not much of a dancer, just to warn you, but since you look sarding amazing, I don't think it will matter. For Fate's sake, no one needs to notice me." Caius' self-deprecating compliment came with a wink, his too warm hands moving to find their proper and socially acceptable places on her person as he relaxed into their positions together. He had been honest, however, and the music revealed he was not a fluid dancer, either because he was distracted or because he was nervous or a bit of both. But he led well and he could follow the motions of other dancers for the visual queues he required. Not that he looked at them, catching only glimpses of whoever else was near them barely out of the edges of his vision.

No, for the moment as it truly had been for almost the entirety of the evening thus far, his attention was solely on Darcyanna Venora. They'd shared secrets and bodies, words and feelings, tales and songs. When she smiled, his chest tightened and his neck tingled, his words got tangled in his thoughts and his tongue became a useless lead slug of pied metal type. It was, however, the too-warm, luminous feeling she kindled in the chilled, dark Labyrinth of his very being, the complicated twists and turns of his emotions that unraveled in her presence that left him both confused and content.

Through the young Gawyne's meticulously cultivated habit of writing down every detail of his trials as he remembered them, careful self-examination had allowed him the privilege of drawing some very quiet, very personal conclusions about his feelings for the delicate pianist who was clearly a better dancer than himself.

Deeply aware of her burdens and brokenness, Caius had come to the rather unacademic conclusion that he could endure the fear of facing Darcy's difficult realities because he'd already come to care for her in ways that honestly even surprised himself, though his excuse was once those feelings were given a name, they existed.

So, he waited. For what? He hoped he'd know.

"I want you to know that I have not been able to entirely look Lord or Lady Tulburn in the face all sarding night without the sudden urge to laugh. The worst part is, I'm pretty sure Lord Tulburn is desperate to have correspondence with my father. Bogs! I can't get away from the man." He spoke his quiet, mundane commentary close enough to the side of her face that she could feel him smile, stray strands of her lovely platinum hair brushing his cheek. The young Gawyne was only marginally concerned about keeping himself as proper as possible, their closeness enough for the moment. The tone of the northern noble's voice revealed he had no clue what to talk about, distracted already in her proximity, desperate to keep in time with the music,

"This is all so exhausting—all these people and their expectations. I have no sarding idea how everyone does this all the time—" Caius breathed, tickling her neck purposefully before tilting his head to hold her gaze, irises warm honey and sunlit grass. His compliment that followed was genuine even though he knew that she surely must have struggled by now with need and wanting, withdrawal a hungry beast on the edges of every distraction, "—You make it look like some kind of undiscovered magical discipline, did you know that? Like sleep, that same ability escapes me."

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

49th Zi’da, 717

Placing a hand on his shoulder whilst the other curled around his own, elbows up and chin high, Darcyanna smiled as Caius led them into their first dance as an official couple. If there were prying eyes on them, the blonde didn’t feel them nor did she care. As far as the Venora was concerned, it felt like the only people in the room were herself and the Gawyne.

Blushing a little, the pianist smiled and turned her gaze away from his own with a soft laugh.

“You’re not too bad, at least you haven’t stepped on my toes. As for noticing you, Caius, everyone has sarding noticed you.” She looked up at him with soft lilac swirling across the lime in her eyes, knowing full well that there had been more than one noblewoman eyeing off the attractive northerner. The thought caused Darcy a surge of possessiveness, and she moved just a little closer than the proper considered distance for dancing, hoping they saw. That they all saw.

As the taller diri’s warm breath ticked her ear, the musically inclined Venora hid her laughter against his leading shoulder, before turning her own lips to speak close to his ear.

“Maybe he can discuss a trade in alternate light sources with him, although I imagine the ponds in Umbridge freeze over more often than not.” She sensed the nobles awkwardness, exposed and unsure of what to say, and pulled back a little as he did so she could look into the warm gold and greens of his eyes.

“It’s all just a game Caius. Smile, nod, laugh. I have the advantage of being able to just stand around and look pretty, be a figurehead for the family name. Anything more than that, I simply refer them to Oli. It’s harder, you are a Gawyne, limited in public appearances and a new fascinating business or political opportunity. Even I admit, I know very little about your family and your home, outside of the generic history and economics we all do in school. That and what you’ve told me in confidence.” Looking away at the mention of sleep, her smile faltered, cracking so slightly at the edges.

“It’s not hard to sleep away the time when you’re barely able to think or walk. As much as it’s a drug, reevi is also a medication used in small doses for sleep assistance.” Talking about the sweet tasting leaf caused her face to feel hot and cold all at once, and with a deep breath, she looked back at the Gawyne’s face with a renewed smile.

“Tell me about Umbridge, Caius. What is it like? Is there more ice than there is housing? How does one survive in the far north?” She teased a little, hoping to both distract herself and give the tall printers apprentice something to discuss that would relax him.

[Caius Gawyne]

"Me? Surely not." Caius dismissed the delicate pianist's suggestion lightly as she moved possessively closer, though it was his turn for some color to grace his cheeks and his gaze to wander from her own, not embarrassed so much as aware that she wasn't entirely incorrect. He relaxed just a little, attempting to approach this dancing business more naturally and less from a textbook perspective, "That means if people here are looking at you as well as looking at me then they are looking at us. And I'm quite pleased with that. With us."

She teased him, though, her lips brushing his ear if he leaned just so while she brought up that sarding Tulburn pond. His eyes fluttered shut for a trill, though she couldn't see it, but then he tilted his head to laugh as Darcy sought to explain how she at least could make her social abilities look good. His brother was far less reliable than Oliver, if not considerably less of a positive social influence if that were possible. He hadn't considered himself or his House a rarity, for at least a Gawyne or two attempted to maintain public presence, but isolation had its limitations, especially in the cold cycle. Caius had changed that in some ways by choosing to live in Andaris and attend Rynmere University, but his general reluctance to become overly involved in the social convention and pretense of noble gatherings indeed added to the interest of his person.

He'd also been given particular insight into his influence and illustrious status both within his House and as a noble in Rynmere during his half a season next to the Lord Inquisitor. He'd begun to grasp that his place was not necessarily behind a stack of books as he'd chosen to live behind for so long, but beyond that. He just was afraid of the consequences.

The young Gawyne opened his mouth to comment, but the blonde Venora's smile faded and her words turned to her temptations. He squeezed her hand that he held, ink-stained fingers curling into the fabric of her dress with an expression that was devoid of judgement. Almost three ten-trials had passed since they'd come together to Bellesoir and aired secrets, and not a one of them had been particularly easy. Some of their trials had been good, some had not, but still for the northern noble, all of them had been worth it. He was apparently far more patient than he thought himself capable,

"Umbridge? We sarding have a hot cycle, you know. It's just ... really short. Half of Ymiden and Saun are relatively warm." Caius grinned at her, green irises flitting briefly from holding her gaze to the other dancers around them, judging his timing and searching for his rhythm. He shifted his steps slightly, shoulders straightening. Looking back at Darcy, he continued, letting the music fill his senses as he spoke quietly, not ignorant of her way of requesting a distraction from her needy thoughts, assuming her need to speak the name of her drug of choice was far more subconscious than actually necessary,

"There is ice, but not all arc except on Warren's Peak and surroundings. My people are hardy and close-knit, but few in number compared to here in Venora, for example. We like our hearths warm and our stories long. The cold cycle is most of the arc, yes, especially in the mountains. I don't really think about the chill, I guess. It's part of who I am. As children, we were just outside no matter the weather, playing in the snow or the rain or the brief warm of Saun."

The northern noble's expression grew wistful and he watched her face carefully, smile softer, "My family home, Warren's End, is carved into an actual mountain. It's warm and well-protected from the weather. Beautiful but isolated. You could get used to it, perhaps. If you lived there. Darcy—"

His words were taunting at first and yet very serious, the warm green in his irises fading toward blue. Caught up in conversation with the blonde Venora, his leading dance movements became less mechanical and more comfortable, though perhaps only those observing would ever notice because his thoughts had long since wandered. Caius said her name but paused, again glancing to the other dancers, taking in their movements and adjusting his own, but only for the excuse of finding a more casual position, a stance together that wasn't a scandalous move so much as just a little improper, hand at her side a little lower than acceptable, "—I know I made the mistake of stating the opposite once, but honestly, maybe enough time has passed that I can speak with more clarity than needful impulse, so—"

Caius lowered his voice, less because he was concerned and more because he just couldn't help it, a bit of flushed heat lingering on his cheeks and the tone of his voice warming with his irises that became the color of honey. He was suddenly shy, but pressed his thoughts into words anyway, "—is it too soon to consider more official things between the two of us? Perhaps less than a season is too soon for most, and yet I do not see how I feel about you diminishing over time, Darcy. No, I would rather hope that all we've been through and all that's left ahead of us would instead bring us closer, you and I. Would it be at all pleasing you to consider a more serious turn to our relationship?"

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

49th Zi’da, 717

Darcy scoffed as though the Gawyne had made a terrible joke when he referred to Umbridge having a hot cycle, grinning teasingly.

“I assume your version of ‘hot’ however still doesn’t see anyone break a sweat? That, my dear Caius, is still cold.” It was jest of course, the same as when she complained about the cold he found pleasant. It was amusing to turn the tables.

She nodded, listening to his almost wistful recount of the barony, and for a moment the blonde felt a tinge of sadness. He spoke about it the same way she’d spoken about Bellesoir, perhaps reminding him of some homesickness. When the roads opened, they should take a visit she thought with a smile, imagining beautiful pristine mountain ranges and the man’s childhood home carved directly into th—

Come again? If you lived there? Did he mean her, or a person in general?

The pianist watched the greens give way to blue, and felt the slightly improper shift of the diri’s hand on her hip, swallowing a little loudly perhaps as she watched his face with a curious expression caught between surprise and caution. They’d indeed had a discussion less than a season or so ago, awkward and half naked in the carriage back to the University. Caius had successfully dug himself a hole, and had also carefully dug himself back out again, all the while Darcyanna had been confused but accepting in the end. This...relationship...was in her mind maybe leaning towards being an infatuation on her behalf, her feelings mirrored but not quite owned by the northerner.

The Venora’s own gaze shifted, picking up the magenta and gold flicks far more observed when she was intoxicated, drowning in the honeyed colors that pooled before her. Darcy’s heart stuttered in her chest, as though wanting to escape from its confinement, and her dance steps had turned into a mere shuffle of muscle memory.

The pale musician blinked, her cheeks red. Be calm.

“Offici—?” She half squeaked, before clearing her throat and trying again.

Play it cool, don’t freak out.

“Offical?” The blonde said softly, her eyes flicking from his own to his lips and back again, not at all noticing anyone else around them. She smiled then, a small touch to the corners, holding back a ridiculous grin. She didn’t want to presume anything, not after the night after the pond.

“I’ve seen...arrangements closed within ten trials, so no, less than a season is not too soon in my view. I...” The woman couldn’t help but let a nervous laugh escape, looking down for a moment to collect her thoughts.

“After all the blood, sweat and tears we have weathered. After the fires we have walked through in this short time, honestly Caius, I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you. I wouldn’t cope, I couldn’t. The very thought makes me ill.” Glancing up again, the Venora smiled up at the diri.

“It would be most pleasing, my Lord Gawyne, it we took a more serious turn. What exactly would you be considering more official? A series of posters perhaps? An item in the Gazette? An announcement by Oliver?” Darcy teased with a nervous chuckle, hoping she wasn’t trivialising how insanely loud her pulse was pounding in her ears.

[Caius Gawyne]

"It's warm enough." He smiled back at the delicate pianist as she teased him. Bogs. Saun in Andaris was oppressive, it was true, but that didn't mean it wasn't ever warm enough to break a sweat in northern Gawyne.

Caius slipped a little in his implying he could imagine her in Umbridge, distracted by their proximity and the talk of his home. He could, though. He wanted to. Perhaps he already had more than once. This was the wrong sarding season to be homesick, Cylus only worse, and yet he couldn't help himself, so unsure if he'd ever really want the title of Baron yet very fond of his life spent growing up in the shadow of Warren's Peak. Oh, but he said something rather forward and he watched the shift of color in her irises, smiling awkwardly. Her moment of silence dragged his needful question out of him, the question he'd considered for a few trials too long already.

The young Gawyne grinned lopsidedly at her squeak, biting his lip and furiously wishing he had more control over the warm color that brushed his cheeks, let alone the mix of emotions that eddied and swirled as a variety of colors in his eyes. Sard it all. He blinked at her rambling statement on arrangements, aware that noble parents often made swift and business-like decisions for their children and their futures, decisions he was thankful his own parents had not yet made without his input. Her next words, however, caught him off-guard in the depth of their sincerity and his grin softened,

"Nor I you, apparently." Caius managed shyly, voice hushed.

It was alright to feel this close to someone, he told himself, to accept their strange compatibility after so short a period of time without question. These were things the heart did, he knew, instead of just the mind. They'd shared secrets and bodies, burdens and smiles, and while he was aware that there were deep places within both of them that had yet to be well explored or even dealt with, he was convinced that whatever difficulties could possibly lay ahead of them would be surmountable together instead of alone. There were words he could have—should have?—said, but he hesitated.

Though he was finally thoughtless enough to move with the music in an admittedly more fluid, natural way, in the same fashion, this moment felt as though it was too much of an expected situation to give semantic life to his feelings for Darcyanna by speaking them out loud. Instead, he savored the things that he felt quietly, unsure of whether they were returned in the same way or not, unsure of whether saying such things would have been met with the same warm reception as his request for their relationship being official instead of just a not always so quiet secret between them,

"Posters? An announcement by Oliver? Bogs, no. Please. I'd rather not." The northern noble flustered, blushing obviously now but smiling none the less, "I just figured that if someone asked after us, after our relationship, we could simply answer that yes, we're indeed courting and no, it's sarding none of their business. Is that not official enough?"

Caius laughed quietly, his sarcasm a needful contrast to the very soft feelings he felt and the seriousness he actually intended. Giving her hand a squeeze and moving them past another dancing couple, he leaned closer still to speak quietly, doing everything in his limited ability to keep from teasing lips against pale skin. His voice was quiet, conspiratory, but he kept his smile in his honesty, "I mean, I think I'd like to meet your parents and send a letter home to mine, though we won't be able to see them until Ashan, honestly. While my mother prides herself in assuming she can find my perfect match in the Merchant Houses of the Eastern Settlements, I'll admit I'm somewhat convinced in this moment that everything is falling into place quite agreeably between us instead. Most of the time, of course."

Pausing for a moment to lean back and really take in Darcyanna's face in their closeness, to smile warmly and stupidly, he continued quietly, unwilling in such public view to say specific words the weighed comfrotably in the caivty of his chest and yet threatened to steal his breath and burn the tip of his tongue. He grinned, lopsided and embarrassed but honest in spite of himself. It was clear by his tone there was more behind his simple words, but whether it was the crowd or fear or something else, he kept his emotions simple and reserved. Instead of saying anything specific, he chose to glance around them curiously once, quite sure that most of those dancing were in their own world anyway, before leaning in for as heartfelt and lingering a kiss as he could get away with, adding with a breathless grin,

"And I feel quite strongly about all that is growing between us. About us. And, perhaps, about a future together—maybe that's sarding forward, Darcy, but it's where I'm at. Right now."

❦

[Darcyanna Venora]

49th Zi’da, 717

Courting.

The simple word that held so much in its construct. Courting with eyes on the future, with official words that implied an exclusiveness between two people. The Venora couldn’t help letting her eyes slip shut with a smile as the taller Gawyne lent closer, his lips not quite brushing pale skin as he spoke of entirely proper things like engaging parents and such.

Falling into place, is that what this feeling was? This fluttering, heady feeling that she got everytime she saw him or thought of him? Falling, absolutely, but in love was probably a more fitting comment than in place.

Opening her eyes as he pulled back, Darcy grinned uselessly, her heart thumping dramatically in her chest. There were words, poised on parted pink lips to pass back a witty flirtatious taunt, but before they could be let free the northerner leant down to capture her mouth with his. Right on the dancefloor, in plain public eye.

It was empty as far as Darcy was concerned, void of people except for herself and the Gawyne Lord. Her fingers curled just so into the fabric of his jacket and...

Fates and Seven all be damned Darcyanna Venora you are swooning you fool.

Catching herself with a soft sigh as the diri broke away, the blonde pianist realised they were not longer dancing, simply standing far to close back in the reality of the gala.

“I feel quite strongly that I agree with you, my Lord.” She uttered softly, wanting to slip her arms up around his neck to bring them closer still, resisting with a chuckle and a glance at the other people around them.

“Do I get flowers, or just baked goods?” The pale creature asked with a scandalous look, before resting her head on his chest with a smile that she felt would probably never disappear.

“Qes, I think I would like this whole official business you’re suggesting.” Darcy said softly, slipping in the Biqaj term for yes, knowing full well her brother and the nobleman had their little snippets between each other. She knew some too, not as much as Oliver, but some.

Just enough, for now at least.

[Pegasus]

Awww, a sweet little thread - and a very sweet conversation between the two. I very much enjoyed reviewing this thread, you did a great job of focusing on how the two of them interacted with each other and yet how each individually felt. Nicely done! If you feel I've missed anything, just drop me a pm!

Caius

Points

XP:15

Fame:+6

Loot

NA

Knowledge

Dancing: (Im)Proper hand positions
Dancing: Watching other dancers for clues
Dancing: Relaxing for more natural movement
Detection: Signs of withdrawal
Detection: Taking queues from your surroundings
Leadership: Taking lead on the dance floor
Leadership: Making relationship decisions
Politics: Being seen with your significant other
Politics: Courting: Making a romantic relationship official

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Darcy: Is way more comfortable in social situations than you
Darcy: Is quite thrilled to court you, officially
Darcy: Baked goods: Inside innuendo

Darcyanna

Points

XP:15

Fame: +6

Loot

NA

Knowledge

Politics: Playing the part
Politics: Talking of official things
Leadership: Guiding to the correct decision maker
Resistance: Coping with the mild symptoms of withdrawal
Dancing: Elbows up, chin high
Dancing: Muscle memory goes a long way
Linguistics: Rakahi Pidgin (Qes=Yes)

Non-Skill Knowledge:
Caius: Wants to make things official
Caius: Courting you...for now
Caius: Wants to meet the parents
Caius: Makes you swoon. Oops.

Location: Umbridge
Location: Warren’s End