(hes not drunk enough to tell her that he wants to marry her one day) "It's not important," he said slowly. "You don't have to worry about it."
(so close!) She glowered up at him. "Francis, you can't start to say something, and then just say 'nevermind'," she said. "That's torture."
"I don't know if I could even say, my love." He shook his head. "It's probably not as good as you would think, anyways."
She turned her face into his chest sleepily, reminiscent of when he carried her in the woods. "I'm sure it's not bad," she said. "But I won't make you tell me."
He sighed, looking out the window. "Well... If you really want to know, then I'll tell you. I just hope that I.. eh, I hope that I have the privilege of marrying you one day." (Why was that so hard for me)
He would feel her body stiffen, clearly surprised. Her eyes widened and she pulled away from him, her gaze intense and demanding. "What did you say?" she asked with a quiet voice. (Because they're cuh-yute!! Also, just so you know, Poppy is pretty skittish about marriage. She's had some bad proposals)
"I'm sorry," he said nervously, not meeting her gaze. "Just forget I even said anything." ( D : I'm frightened)
He turned to her, his gaze a bit annoyed. "I think you heard me." Obviously he would not say words like that normally, but the drinks may have changed his tone.
She frowned, a little hurt. She sat back in her chair, processing his words as she stared straight ahead, her fingers fiddling in her lap anxiously.
He turned back to look away. He knew he didn't want to be bitter, but he felt a bit insecure after speaking for some reason. He didn't want to be mean to her. "I'm sorry."
She didn't respond for a moment, her head cocked slightly. "When you're in a relationship with someone," she said eventually. "You're either dating until you break up or you get married. Is that okay with you?"
"I know, Poppy. Both happened to me on the same day. I realize," he said lowly, frowning in distaste. "It was a mistake of me to say anything. Besides, only one good thing came out of that ordeal, and it was being able to be with you." (Yep. Drunk Francis is an ass and vain and inconsiderate and cocky and mean but he'll try.)
(It's a tough situation, because Evan proposed to her multiple times, and eventually he proposed to her in public because he thought that it might force her to say yes, so she's pretty wary of the whole situation, even though she loves Francis way more than she ever loved Evan. It was the possessiveness of the whole thing.) She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, the other arm wrapped around her waist as if to protect herself from his words. She seemed to be smaller than normal, her frame tighter and compact. "No, it's good that you said something. We should be on the same page. I just... I didn't expect you to be thinking this way this soon." She straightened up, and leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling with her brow furrowed in thought. "I mean, of course I'd like to marry you one day," she said quietly, almost as if she were afraid that he would hear her. "But I'm already yours, Francis. A marriage won't really change that."
He didn't say anything at first, only gazed out. "They mean something to me. It just makes everything so real. So much easier to enjoy, just because you don't have to worry as much." His eyebrows furrowed and he crossed his arms. "It's stupid, I know."
His shoulders were tense, and he looked over at her with a tired expression. "That you'll grow tired of me and leave."
She watched him for a moment, before sliding over and embracing him, her arms wrapping around his ribcage. "That will never happen," she said quietly into his shoulder. "I am yours. Completely and utterly. Okay?"
He kissed the top of her head lightly, but felt nervous about it. "Okay. Okay." He brushed back some of her hair, watching as they approached the airship. "I love you," he said softly, his was tone calmer than before.
