Michaela Boot should be much too smart for this. (perfectionist) wrote in backway,
That was enough to distract him. Quinn dropped his quill and glared at her. "The ministry? Respectable? You're joking!"
"You said you wanted dramatic."
"Fine," he muttered, pinching his eyebrows together. "But if I have to do that then I want to have something too. Like a farm. With ducks - lots of ducks. A duck farm, if you will."
Cho giggled. "And I thought you'd ask for--" Pink cheeked again, she glanced back down at the parchment. "--nevermind. Ducks, it is."
"Well, if we're married I'll get that anyways," he declared smugly. "Ducks aren't a given."
"Not if you don't sing to me, you won't," she said, writing again.
"Singing is a small price to pay," he assured her, picking his own quill back up again to return to his essay.
"Good," Cho said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is there anything else you want besides a duck farm?"
"Stubby Boardman to sing at our reception," he said distractedly.
"Would a reasonable facsimile work?"
"What would you suggest?"
"A Stubby impersonator. I don't know, but I wrote him a letter to get an autograph for your birthday. The owl came back," she said, frowning a little.
"Oh." Quinn went quiet, his quill hovering above the parchment. "Well, we don't really need an act. I think that you should have to wear short skirts whenever I ask though."
Cho giggled again. "I'm wearing a skirt now," she said, taking his free hand into hers.
"Yes, but unfortunately you don't always," he pointed out.