Cid turns around, spotting another open letter. He frowns as he picks it up, turns it over and reads it, his lips just barely moving as he parses it. And then repeats it, louder, for Barnabas.

“Plan a wedding with another,” Cid reads as he approaches again, this time sitting back into his place next to Barnabas.

Cid turns it around, then back. “That’s almost vague. Though, I can certainly make plans more feasibly than I can pull a poem out of thin air. …Is it meant to be our wedding? I suppose it would have to be.”

Cid hasn’t looked at Barnabas again yet, but he can feel- butterflies in his stomach, of all things.

“Honestly… I never dreamed of such a thing. I just wanted to survive when I was young, and then… Well, we were always so busy. Running a kingdom hardly happens by accident. I couldn’t imagine stepping away from it all to marry someone.”