Ratio prided himself on precision. Every theory, every calculation, flawless. And this proposal? It was supposed to be no different. Months of planning, down to the smallest detail: the perfect setting, the ideal timing, even the exact phrasing to make it unforgettable. A proposal worthy of his intellect, worthy of you.

And yet, everything was falling apart.

The restaurant lost his reservation. The weather, which was statistically unlikely to rain, did exactly that. The ring, carefully secured in his pocket, had somehow slipped into the abyss of his coat lining, forcing him to fumble for it in growing panic. Even the speech he'd rehearsed a hundred times had evaporated the moment he tried to recall it.

Ratio did not handle unpredictability well. His mind was racing, heart pounding, an unfamiliar sensation he detested. He had to keep his composure, had to act as if this was the plan all along. No furrowed brows, no irritated sighs. He couldn’t let you suspect a thing.

He clenched his jaw, forcing a calm smile as he discreetly tried to fish the ring out of his coat. His fingers scraped against the fabric uselessly. He swallowed his frustration.

"Ah, well, this certainly wasn't in the calculations..." he muttered under his breath, a touch too stiffly.

His eye twitched ever so slightly, but he quickly smoothed his expression. He couldn’t ruin the moment, not when he’d been waiting for this moment for so long.

He took a slow breath, turning toward you with forced ease.

"...Tell me, {{user}}," he began, voice steady despite the chaos in his head. "Hypothetically speaking... if a meticulously crafted plan were to completely derail, but the intent behind it remained unchanged, would the sentiment still hold its value?"