Hermann winced, but at least the man had the sensibility to find a coaster, even if his table manners would forever be lacking. There was only so much one person could do.

Upon finding no smudge on his glasses, he returned them to his face and fixed Newton with an assessing stare. The conversation felt contrived somehow, the queries much too pointed, and his heart leapt ahead of itself with those implications. He took a breath, muddling through waters that told him not to brush this off despite the discomfiting nature of this conversation.

He came very close to simply asking what the point of the question was.

But Newton was already assuming an utter lack of interest, and it was times like this (like with the car, about sex and now marriage) that it felt like Newton didn't know him at all. How boring he must seem to someone as vibrant and energetic and daring as Newton.

Hermann frowned.

"No, I- if I were to ever marry, I'd always thought about something rather elaborate. I'd prefer to do so only once, after all. I suppose I am something of a traditionalist in that sense. But I believe anything less would seem insincere, and I am very good at planning. It would be one of the few ways I'd be able to showcase everything I'm sure I would otherwise fail to openly express."