Sun Mote Copse That's why we're all wearing braces

Niamh rolled her eyes. Of course Colt had wanted it to be perfect; as tough as he probably wanted to seem, and as rough as he could be around the edges, there was no denying the fact that he was an old-school romantic at heart, the way a cowboy might be in an old movie. A bit of a rogue, but respectful nonetheless, and secretly sentimental. That was the Colt she knew and loved- the one who could tease her one moment almost to the point of frustration- but then show up at the den with pretty feathers the next, who told her she was beautiful when she felt ugly, and who continued to treat her like a queen even when she acted like a gnat. Colt had probably wanted the right lighting, the right setting, the right mood- but he'd possibly misjudged Niamh's priorities. She didn't care where or when he asked- she'd simply wanted him to pop the question for weeks now. 

"Anywhere, any time, is the right time. This is the moment and it's still perfect- 'cause at the end of the day, I get to be Niamh Blackthorn again and screw it if that leaf ain't in the right place, or the sun isn't just right- I don't care about that. I just want this." She said. She shuffled closer to him so that she could lean against his shoulder. "But it's not stupid...It's...It's really cute. I like that you're kinda soft on the inside." She said, giving him a coy smile.