[Oh, handy; he hadn't anticipated much in the way of moral objections in a place telling its new residence they will be paid according to intimacy, but anything less than clandestine is a step up, certainly. Clandestine and mostly began in taverns, ironically enough.

Ah, modern marvels. The possibilities are indeed endless.]

I assure you, no one has worried about the surety of my marriage prospects in some time. But yes, quite— I doubly assure you that I have no qualms about it, personally.

[Like, he doesn't say fuck, but that's because his very worst swear is a well placed "damn," which is a different thing entirely. He sips the wine, gesturing back and forth between them both with an index finger. Now, begging the question part two:]

Is this leading to an offer or neighborly concern?