Rhiane listened with rapt attention as he relayed the story from his adolescence. She was not listening out of polite courtesy but rather because she was genuinely curious about the person he was beyond heir to the throne. Thus far he had proven himself to be as self-absorbed, arrogant, and stubborn as people generally believed him out to be, but she had hoped he was not the summation of his flaws any more than she was. The princess elect certainly knew she had a disturbing morbid sense of humor, was entirely too proud, was too quick to fall on the proverbial sword for her family, hard a sharp tongue, kept an emotional distance from most, was terrified of the notion of actual romantic love, and her knack for deceit made those closest to her have difficulty trusting her completely, no matter how good her intentions might be. Everyone had bad qualities; that was a fact of life. Her fiance's profession he was not a good man had made her fear his hubris might eclipse his virtue.

Hearing him speak about his father brought a warmth to her smile. The fondness with which he spoke of his deceased parent made her want to hear even more about him- and how about little Luke hadn't been the perfect person he feigned being today with so much responsibility heaped onto his shoulders. Rhiane wanted to hear how sometimes the royal family wasn't wrapped up in trying to be glamorous and was almost [i]normal.[/i] These glimpses of humorous mishaps and conventional displays of affection made him relatable. For a singular moment of time he wasn't just putting on a show of being Prince Charming. The irony of Luke confessing he poured salt into cake batter when making a cake for his mother making him glow with enchantment was not lost on the princess elect. Had she been one of those silly contest candidates she might have even swooned as he chased his tale with a proposal of sharing their entrees evenly split in half.

"I like hearing you talk about yourself like this," she said without pretense, ignoring for a moment both the interruption and interloper. Rhiane locked her gaze with Luke, hoping to convey her sincerity and interest, even if he scoffed and closed himself off in response. There was no ulterior motive. She was not a woman who was digging for dirt; if anything, her position ensured that she'd never be able to safely expose any skeletons in their closet without throwing herself to the wolves first. In this absurd game of courtly backstabbing she wanted him to hear that, despite herself and his warnings, she cared. She cared about what sort of person the late king had been, about what he had taught his children, about what beautiful memories he left behind, what impact he had on their upbringing, about Luke's feelings regarding his passing, about all the silly, stupid, irrelevant mistakes he had made that had no blackmail value.

"Ms. Viscomi, I appreciate you printing this questions for me, even if it's protocol," she said. Her tone was honeyed but it wasn't mockingly sweet, nor was she lying. The former farmer had a way of flattering someone that, even if they knew she was angling for a particular agenda, was disarming in its delivery. Long ago Rhiane had learned that giving a compliment or expressing gratitude when you didn't mean to do either was fruitless. In her business dealings she had become inventive in finding something to honestly praise at times- the shipper's hair, the merchant's new shirt, the bright smile of her seed supplier, the darling sprite baby of the delivery man's wife.

"Of course, Ms. Black," she intoned nervously. "Have you had a chance to review them in their entirety?"

"I've had a change of heart, Ms. Viscomi, but would you do me the honor of hearing me explain why?" She picked up her knife and began to carefully slice her sandwich in half. The side that had not been bitten into was purposefully slightly larger. Famished as she might be she knew Luke was bigger than she was, was also starved, and needed the calories even if he was being uncharacteristically generous. Without waiting for his approval she carefully lifted the disproportionately larger 'half' and slid it onto the edge of his plate. If he didn't reciprocate her gesture (which had been silent acceptance of his earlier offer) she could find a way to make half a sandwich, soup, and dessert be enough to power her through the interview. "The public likes me because I'm not rehearsed. I know that probably makes the palace nervous, but the queen and crown prince are polished speaking figures, so I need to offer something different to the citizens watching from their small homes. I promise you if I do not meet your expectations during the interview I will let you prep me on every question as much as you want from now until the end of time. If I meet yours, the queen's, and his highness's approval, however, I'd like it if you could create room in our tour for a chance to do something alone with Prince Luke."

Luce Viscomi looked equally fearful of Rhiane's failure and excited about her prospect for success. If the princess elect could stand apart as someone who felt as approachable as she was pitching, and as candid, it would do wonders for elevating the royal family by association.

"What do you think, Luke? Will you take me on some roller coasters or skydiving if I do well? After I cook you breakfast of course, just don't expect it to be quite like this," she said with a gesture towards their small feast.