The Irishman sat within a rather large and cushiony chair on the first floor of the tea shoppe. His emerald eyes moved across the page of the musician's magazine he held with a little bit of a lazy air.

His blue and black bekilted legs crossed over one another, effectively preserving his modesty while allowing him to relax. He'd gotten it down to a painless science, as a matter of fact.

He wore a sleeveless Metallica band shirt, and a black and blue
cabby hat to match his kilt. Relaxation.

No Guitar would escort her tonight. She had just finished loading the last box of her things into Travis's apartment and didn't want to stay cooped up in towers of boxes while waiting for Travis to help her unpack.

Instead, she was satisfied with taking the long hikes back and forth from the Glen to the Marketplace.
Pushing the door open, the bell signified her presence.

And instantly, she saw that signature kilt. And cabby.

Deciding to remain unnoticed, she walked towards him in hopes of him looking away from his beloved mag to notice her.

Though she exclaimed this softly since she was close to the Irish type.

She backed away from his embrace, but remained on his lap. One arm was across his broad shoulder while another playfully but uselessly adjusted his cabby hat.

"Do ye now, Rosie? I migh' know more than ye
think I do." He gave her side a squeeze as he looked up at the brim of his moving hat.

He reached up and removed it only to flop it onto the top of her wondrously messy hair. The cabby's removal revealed the beginnings of a mohawk, already beginning to fall over to the right from the length alone.

He grinned a sparkling, warms-you-up-from-the-belly grin, and gave her thigh a fraternal sort of pat. "Let's see et, then!" He'd not been shown the ring, after all. He'd been woefully distracted since the party and had to make up for it now!

Reptilian eyes close when she was crowned with his delightfully coordinating hat. She smiled, letting out a small laugh that was musical in the ways of smiles.

Using the unused arm to adjust the hat to sit on her head juuust right, she looked down to him in slight awe.

"You know?! Did Travis get to you before I did?!"

At her confusion and shock, she held out her left hand to him, presenting
the lovely ring to him. She was still lost in the tornado of wonder at his knowledge of her engagement.

In their hug, she hoped to hide her lips that were tucked into her mouth to conceal tears and slight whimpers that would match them. "Thank you, Keithy...That means a lot to me..."

Said low and wavering with delighted emotion. "I know, Rosie, I know." He pulled her close, and kept her there for a good long while. One big hand held place on her back, patting in a securing, comforting way until he finally pulled her back by the shoulders and placed a big, Irishman's kiss on her forehead.

"Yer gonna be a picture in yer dress, though, aye? The
pretties' bit o' skirt thes pit's ever seen!"

A little change of pace could be good. The reminiscence was necessary and yet at the same time a little too raw to linger on.

Chase sniffled loudly, laughing to mask a gentle weakness in her voice from being filled with emtion. Inken skin was exposed in a halter top, arms and what was visible on her chest heavily tattooed and illustrated.

"You can see me in a dress?!" Asked in amazement as her finger went to sweep dampness from the rims of her colorful eyes. "I sure can't. Wearing skirts are as far as I go, Lucky. You know that!"

He laughed and chuckled along with every pose, moving his hands so as to mime a camera and 'capture the images' for the cover of cabby enthusiast quarterly.

When she posed her question, brows bounced up and his voice was bright. "What about et, Rosie?"

He was sure she needed something simple, or maybe some heavy lifting done. After all, it was kind of his thing to do some leg-work for anything going on.

"Well.."

Her hands dipped to rub up and down her legs reluctantly, like a child finding it in themself to ask something of someone else for the first time.

It was a childish, but authentic move for her to make when in the loving presence of her Irishman brotherly figure.

"...Pop pop would be proud of me...But I know what
else he'd want.."

Building up to it, the Gypsy looked into those four leaf clover colored eyes with no tricks in mind.

"Keith, would you do my family the honor of giving me away?"