There was a knock on the door, and a short old man with bushy eyebrows peered in. Poppy's face split into a smile. "Phos," she said cheerfully. "Hello." The old man's eyes were filled with tears, and he took a deep shuddering breath. "Oh, hello you two," he said, coming over to kiss Poppy's cheek and give her a hug and then turning to Francis and hugging him as well. He smelt of soap and lemon, and his arms were trembling as he held them tightly.
(Aww, Phos, you old bean) "Phos, are you okay?" he asked playfully, grinning as the old man joined them.
(Poor baby.) He sniffled. "You two could have died," he said, wiping away tears. "You could have died and that would have been it." He snapped his fingers. "Gone. No more."
He crossed his arms thoughtfully, cocking his head slightly. "But we didn't luckily," he said softly. "I understand your worry, though. Thank you for concern, Phos. We missed you."
He sniffled again and pulled out a handkerchief, kissing the top of Poppy's head again. "Did you find out exactly what they were studying?" he asked when he had composed himself.
He frowned, took Poppy's face in one hand, and inspected the cut on her cheek, pursing his lips slightly. "I'll have to get you two some ointment," he said, tutting under his breath.
"Oh, right," Francis started pulling nervously on one of his fingers. "I get to call someone else my fiancée now."
Poppy's face, squished from Phos' gripped, raised an eyebrow at him as Phos froze. "You... got engaged to someone?" he finally asked.
"I did," he said with a nod, trying not to let a smile sneak onto his other blank expression. "It was a good decision."
"Well, I know it's a bit early, but..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What if something like that happens again?"
He frowned and scratched the back of his neck. "I think you two are perfect together," he said. "You know that, right? But..." He sighed and shook his head. "You shouldn't get married because you're scared you might die. You shouldn't be scared into it. It should just be right."
He sighed heavily and leaned against the bed. "It isn't forced," he said. "It's not time sensitive. It just feels right. There isn't any pressure. It's just you and that person."
He sighed. He knew it wouldn't be a good idea telling someone. What if it was just because he of scared of them dying? "Right. Right."
Poppy was quiet, a frown on her face as she considered his words. Finally, she turned back to Francis. "What do you want to do?"
