Well if she wanted to be picked up, kissed, and twirled, she got that for sure!

She can't tell which she finds more dizzying, being twirled or being kissed, and it probably doesn't matter anyway. Either way, she practically melts into his arms and gives a breathless and happy hum.

"Was that a yes?" she clarifies wryly, when her feet are back on the ground and her lips are free from breath-stealing kisses.

"Oh, I don't know, I'll have to think about it," he says, but the fact that he seems physically incapable of not grinning at the moment betrays the lie.

"Oh? You'll have to think about it? Play the field, date around, test out your options, hmm? Well, you can if you like, but if you do, I don't see why I'd put my life on hold for you if we're not serious..."

He laughs again and then looks into her eyes with an amused but intense look in his. "I will be your friend and partner and lover and husband and whatever else you will have of me. I am yours, body and soul, mind and being."

Oh no now she's having that pesky breathing problem again, why does this keep happening.

"Okay," she agrees softly, leaning closer like a flower to sunlight. "Let's just stick with 'boyfriend' for now, and take it slow and see where we end up?"

"Your wish," James says, bowing low without breaking eye contact or letting go of her hand, "is my command." He finishes with an unbearably soft kiss to the back of the hand he's holding.

"Okay," she repeats, enchanted by his charm and the romance of the moment. ... Mostly. Mostly enchanted.

"You have lipstick on you," she adds with a little giggle, squeezing his impossibly strong hand gently.

He straightens up and says, "A token, then, that I shall carry for the next little while, to remember you by."

"Oh? Well, then let's give you a better token than that." She then steps closer, and carefully and deliberately presses her lips to his cheek to leave a much more artful and striking lipstick mark than the smudged and messy results of his kiss.

He grins again but shakes his head gently. "This," he says, touching his lips, "is a token of your affection. This," he continues, now touching the lipstick on his cheek, too lightly to smudge it, "is a token of your thoughtfulness."

"Yes, and the token of my affection makes you look a bit like a clown, so please let the token of my thoughtfulness pull double duty."

He laughs but assents, cleaning the smudge with a handkerchief.

"Much better." She leans up to give him another quick kiss on the lips, then steps back towards her house, smiling faintly.

"Good night, my prospective love."

And she is not going to get a better exit than that, so she's taking it while she has it.

Yeah that'll keep him rooted to the spot for a few seconds before letting out a "whoop" and skipping off in a daze.

He can hear faint giggling from behind the door as he departs.

He is far too happy to care.

(Prospective love!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEE.)

A couple days later, he receives a letter in the mail, addressed from his mate.

It reads:

'Hello James,

Yvette'

He will reply immediately confirming that of course "as soon as inhumanly possible" is the correct answer, and then return home and hug the letter.

This is about what she expected. She gives him a time, a date, a promise to supply and instruct him if he would just like to follow her directions, and a list of what foods to not include if he'd like to try to make something on his own. Though she points out that her kitchen might not be able to supply him if he wants to do something fancy, so he'd have to also go ingredient shopping if he's making something without help from his girlfriend.

And on the promised date he knocks on her door.

Here is Yvette, answering the door!

This time, she is not dressed up. Instead she's wearing her work clothes and a somewhat tired expression that is nonetheless replaced with a smile.

"Hi, James! Come in and please save me from the wrath of dinner."

"It will be my pleasure," he promptly answers, sporting a large brown leather briefcase and golden irises.

Her smile widens a little when she spots his eyes.

"Gold looks good on you," she says, as she gets out of his way so he can actually come inside. "Can I take your briefcase and hang up your coat?"

"Coat, yes; briefcase, no," he says, mysteriously.