Bragi looked down at his delicate hands, smiling slightly to find that they were as good as new — quite symbolic of the encounter turning from calamitous to kind, from frightening to fine. Yes... this would all be fine. But when Bragi looked up from his hands, it was to see both men suddenly aghast with some new calamity.

His slate blue eyes glanced between the two, alarmed by the similarities in their expressions. For a moment they both seemed pensively distant, and then... tortured. Bragi inhaled softly as finally the clouds parted and he saw the light.

It was perfectly reasonable that naive Bragi might come to another woefully wrong conclusion here: he might surmise that they were not married and that was the problem. And oh maybe the scandal of an extramarital affair had some part to play, but the true ache was far grander — they were both men, and the world would not let them marry. Bragi silently, vitally acknowledged that the fact that he'd never heard of same-sex marriage was not about rarity; it was about intolerance.

Bragi absentmindedly took Galahad's reins again, holding them loosely in one hand, as if for support. Much like Mr Sterling's descent onto a hay-bale granted him more steadiness.

A pause, and then — "I shan't tell a soul". As he addressed this to both men, his voice was steadier than it had been all evening. "I just... I just..." the steadiness was gone as he asked helplessly: "Is there no way to persuade Society that it is in fact acceptable?"

Up until now, Bragi had been entirely unquestioning of what Society deemed right and proper. But what fool had come up with this rule?

Somebody who'd never read a romance in their life.