Miles made a noise in his throat and leaned in to kiss Daphne again. They were going to do this--manage it somehow--even if it meant making some poor bloke who worked at the Ministry in Greece stand up for them.
"I--I can go to the Ministry, get the paperwork, make those arrangements." It was certainly not romantic, what he was talking about, but the ridiculous smile would not leave his face. They were going to be married in just a few hours if all the planets aligned they way Bletchley needed them to. He bit his lip and looked her over. "And I shouldn't see you until--until the wedding then, in your dress. I mean--tradition."
Why either of them cared about traditions at this point seemed almost a bit funny, but their upbringing still lingered around them. Certain things, like getting down on one knee, were still hovering in the ether of proper behaviour, no matter what kind of rebel Miles had become.