You'd been adamant that the whole courting ceremony was stupid. Your father was not, however, so here you were standing in the middle of a ball. You sigh, gently dancing with the first man you see. He speaks first.

"Y'know, love, if I didn't know who you were, I'd think you were drunk." You peer up. He's pretty, dressed elegantly, and has kind blues paired with a full beard you want to feel.

"Why? You're one of the prettier men in this city."

He smiles, huffing.

"Okay, hen, sure."