Ben's immediate thought was what the hell would she do with a lion, but he bit his tongue and kept the comment to himself. He thought he'd guessed her game by now, which was that she really did want this to feel as much like one of those gothic romance books as possible. That wasn't really Ben's thing, but he supposed he could try. Though he certainly wasn't planning on buying her a lion. He couldn't even really wrap his mind around the word love yet, much less these sorts of grand romantic gestures. Besides, the last time he'd tried to do something romantic, he'd ended up with a broken leg, a drinking habit, and a boat trip to Canada, all courtesy of the Crazy Extended Family on both of their sides. He was a bit leery of trying to do anything when he'd so recently been stung.

"Tristan and Isolde aren't terrible," he mumbled rather noncommittally. Tristan, at least, was a normal name, and one he thought he could remember when signing his letters. He didn't know the stories behind any of these — he'd failed History of Magic, and was even worse, generally, with Muggle history — but he had the vague feeling that Lancelot and Guinevere hadn't had a happy ending. And like hell was he going to write letters to the princess and sign them Edward, after his rather memorable run-in with her cousin of the same name.