“Yes, [i]Mister Dolce.”[/i] Vasilia ground out through a gritted smile. “We’re all rather busy here, so please. If you would. Tell the good Hermetician you were joking.”

Dolce blinked away some visions of deeply unprofessional social dynamics, and unfortunately found himself precisely where he’d been a moment ago. “Well. I would, yes, I would. Very much love to say that...”

“And what. Exactly. Is. Stopping you?”

He took the longest breath of his life. “I don’t know-”

“How can you [i]not know?!"[/i]

“It’s - oh. No. Please, it’s, it’s a little complicated, but-”

“I fail to see how it’s complicated, dear. Either you tell me you’re joking, or you tell me who you’ve failed to introduce me to. Which is it?”

[i]“I don’t know if I’ve married anyone else!”[/i]

Divine fury crashed into incomprehensible chaos, and the entire room lurched to a screeching halt. “You...what?” It was Vasilia’s turn to be at a loss for words. “How could you not know you’ve married someone? I would think that would be hard to miss.”

“It wasn’t covered in our education. None of it was. We were never taught anything about courtship, or marrying, or harems, or anything of the sort. I,” He stared straight through the deck, to the distant, confusing past. “I never thought of it before you brought it up, but, I’ve had a long service with the Starsong. I only met you partway through. And, I know [i]now[/i] there are many ways to court and marry, but. There was such a long time before, I met so many people...it’s entirely possible somebody married me, and I would never have known.” To think; you could marry the love of your life, begin a bright new chapter together, and then wake up one day and they were just. Gone. Without ever honoring the oaths you swore together. He shivered and hugged himself tightly. Horrible. Simply, horrible to think about. “It was never anything to think about before. You came of age, you had your assigned partner, and that was that.”

Vasilia fell back into her chair. The motion would’ve been more graceful had she been stumbling drunk. “Dolce.” She said slowly. “Did you have an...’assigned partner?’”

“Oh! Oh no, no, of course not. ‘The chef’s love is to be his art, and his love will be complete in service.’” He recited from memory. “That’s how it was for me, and the chef before me, and all the chefs before us.”

“Right. Of course.” There was. Entirely too much to unpack there, in a conversation already bursting at the seams. “Now we just have to figure out if you ever...married somebody on accident.”

“It would be closer to unintentionally marrying someone, but, yes.”

“Unintentionally married. Why not?” She closed her eyes, and quietly explored a steady path to some rather high numbers. “Aphrodite?” She finally said without looking. “On the quite likely chance you’re standing there, would you care to weigh in on the question?”