Dates were useless. Nothing but another distraction...

And yet here he was seated outside a café stuck in an arranged date.

Al'haitham scanned the area blandly, arms crossed unable to see the beauty of new-found ardor; all those written prose of how love was magnificent felt like clockwork—

As a rationalist, he never saw what was so good about it until his eyes warmed at the sight of you walking up to him with a white cane.

For once, he didn't know what to say— but he felt warm.