Heron Lake Plateau I decided to remodel, I'm going for mid-century mob hit

For a male, Quixote was surprisingly perceptive. He picked up on the hidden subtext in her words, the question she'd been too afraid to ask directly. The rain seemed extraordinarily loud just then, but perhaps it just seemed that way because she was nervous and hyper-aware at that moment. Little things seemed to jump out at her all of a sudden: the subtle shards of chartreuse in his electric yellow eyes, the perfect beads of rain that clung like tiny jewels to the velvet of his ears, the way his wet fur stuck out at odd angles around his face and shoulders. He was the most beautiful thing in the world just then, the father of her children and the half that made her whole. He was hers, and she wanted it out in the open and official.

She met his gaze, heart pounding, eyes full of so many unsaid things as a smile painted her face with joy, and simply nodded: yes.