She laughs at him, with him, as he spins her around, partly with amusement and partly in utter confusion. He's always been fairly good-natured, although not this joyous in some time, and given the weather it's all so wholly unexpected. Nice, and lovely, but unexpected.

"Of course He listens," Kate protests, the rest of whatever she was going to say lost as Benedict twirls her. Then he-

Oh.

Kate stares down at him, her hazel eyes wide and lips parted as he speaks. As he... proposes. To her. Staring up at her like that.

"I. Oh," she repeats, dumbly. "Yes, that's, that's the same custom back home, though we have little here." Something woven, maybe, to symbolize, except, no, he's produced a box.

A box, for her. For the disreputable Kate Kelly, now still sometimes only occasionally Kate Sorellin. She could open that box. She should. But she can't move.

"Yes," she says, hardly daring to breathe. "Yes. I'd be honoured."