Glibt pouted just slightly as she was shifted away but simply turned so she was settled in against Mark's side, an arm around his waist and her head resting against his shoulder. She let his remark pass, however, although her fingers played lightly on Mark's hip. Yes, the conversation was important but she was just as attracted to Mark as he was to her.
Glibt couldn't be blamed if Mark's next words completely destroyed any sexual thoughts she was having, banished them in a very, very good way. "The President is going to be invited to our wedding?" She couldn't help but sit up a bit and fix Mark with a gaze that was nervous and hopeful and happy. "I get to meet him, right? And talk to him?" Thoughts occurred to her in quick succession and she had to struggle to keep up with the wheels turning - spinning - in her head.
"No, I want to you invite them..." Glibt trailed off absentmindedly, still wrestling with the implications. "Will he come? You know, to a same-sex wedding?" Glibt wouldn't admit liking the prospect, not wanting to think about using their wedding as a political power play, but the President at a homosexual wedding? Symbolic, extremely symbolic, and even if Glibt didn't manage to corner poor President Obama and not-so-gently, yet politely, remind him about his campaign promises to her people, merely having him there would send a message.
Glibt settled back down against Mark and continued to contemplate the implications. This was big, politically, as well as it was big in a sense that Glibt would be even fussier about every detail now that she knew that the President was invited.