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"Indeed she is," you nod in agreement with your father. A playful smile brightens your face as you assure him that, "You can sleep soundly while I'm off wallowing through the pit of sin that is Rosarium, Papa. Hilde will devour all those wolfish men herself before they've the chance to turn a lustful eye my way... just like she did with Sir Damien. Perhaps once she's finished, the men of the Roslands will go and sin no more."
"As was foretold by the Sages..." Hilde's voice becomes comically solemn. Her fingers curl into the signs made by the sages of the Jasmine Hall as they speak their sutras. "For having experienced the apex, nothing again will stir their hearts with desire, for nothing under heaven could compare to the kiss of the wildflower."
Your father let's out a snort of laughter. "I forgot how <span class="mu-i">humble</span> you were."
Hilde puffs up with pride, pushing up two extra-large, pillow-soft reasons for her abundant self-confidence. "According to Father Durandal, the LORD of Light hates lies more than boasts, so I'm just erring on the side of caution and doing my best to please the LORD. Now, what's this about a <span class="mu-i">scarf</span>, Lou-Lou?"
Hilde pivots to you, and your father nods at her question, expecting an answer. Before you can say anything, Hilde gives you an apologetic look and says, "If I screwed up with Damey, I can break it off. It was just a fling, and I know for a fact that I wasn't his firs-"
You shake your head emphatically, "Hilde, it's <span class="mu-i">nothing</span> like that. You know what I find attractive; I like my men a bit shorter and on the leaner side... darker hair... just a little bit of stubble because he got so caught up in something last night that he didn't have time to shave... glasses are a plus... oh, and if he doesn't have any passion for something then he might as well be a eunuch."
As you describe your ideal man, your father rubs his temples and explains that, "In other words, Hilde, my daughter is attracted to René de Pleuvoir."
"I dunno..." Hilde looks at you with a cattish grin on her face. "That sounds an awful lot like Damey to me. I mean, he's taller than most, but isn't <span class="mu-i">everyone</span> short compared to Lou-Lou?"
"It's not like her to <span class="mu-i">actually knit something</span>, either," a matching smile crawls onto your father's face as well, a clear sign of his betrayal. "I have it on good authority that my eldest daughter <span class="mu-i">hates</span> knitting and would rather do <span class="mu-i">anything else</span> than join her mother at the knitting circle."
"I don't hate it that much," you complain.
"I'm quite certain that you do..." your father says with the sort of smile that believes it knows everything about you.
Too often, he's right about that, but tonight you know for a fact that he's <span class="mu-i">dead wrong</span>. So you tell it to him and Hilde straight forward, so there's no ambiguity to be had: "I have absolutely zero interest in that irritating, cocky, perverse, scheming, irredeemably heretical <span class="mu-i">louse</span> of a man, thank you."
