Alfred had been talking himself into and out of this decision for weeks now. He knew how he felt about Zelda, but the entire structure of English romance didn't feel right to him after his return from South America. It was like trying on a shirt that didn't quite fit him anymore — after not having worn a shirt for over two years. But whatever his feelings on the formality of courtships, betrothals, engagements, and marriage, this was really the only thing to do. There wasn't any alternative if he wanted their relationship to continue to grow. There was no future without some sort of formal commitment. They couldn't just keep running around seeing each other 'accidentally' and exchanging flirtatious letters.

He really had no idea how to do this — his prior engagement hadn't been a formal one, only something decided between himself and Lily, which he understood now was absolutely not the right way to go about things. So he had no relevant experience to draw on, and only the vaguest idea of what was expected of him — and he supposed he'd have to figure out the rest as he went. He'd picked what he thought would be a suitable date and time; early evening on a Monday, when Mr. Fisk was certain to be home from work at the Ministry, but unlikely to have any social plans.

What he had failed to account for, not having even the faintest idea of what went on in Judaism, was that the Monday evening he'd picked was also the first day of Passover. His first shock of the evening (but certainly not his last) came when his knock on the door was answered by the Fisk he was least inclined to ever speak to again.

"Uhm," he mumbled, having immediately lost his train of thought. Was it too late to back out? He could claim he'd knocked on the wrong door. "I, er — Evening." That was progress — it was a word, at least. He could do this. Ari Fisk didn't scare him. He just needed to regain his mental footing and forge ahead.

"I was hoping to speak to your father," he said quickly. It was an intelligible sentence, but his nerves were still clearly showing both in the color that had risen to his cheeks and the speed at which he'd rambled it out. Merlin help him.

Ari Fisk first, then open to any Fisks/relations who would be home for Passover.