He had been off. It wasn’t too strange — maybe you were reading into the lines far too much. Arthur was generally an odd man, you knew this. But, for some reason, he was more off-putting today than usual.

He fumbled with his hands, his gaze on everything except you. This was not normal.

“Sorry I — uh — I wanted to ask you a question.” He stammered, his face entirely flushed red. Tugging at his collared shirt, he finally met your gaze.

A question? He planned a fancy dinner to ask a question?