[LOG] Begman Wedding Practices, Modern, Nondenominational
Glanworth leads the way from the hotel, and across the busy center of town, to a nondescript office in a government building. There's a bit of a queue, but not a terrible one. They find themselves sitting in a waiting room, Charles clutching a paper ticket like a talisman.
Molly hovers close to Charles. She seems to find something about the plain office and the waiting people to be opressive and worrisome. Her eyes dart around nervously, and she's quiet and subdued while they wait.
There are a number of petitioners ahead of them in line, but the waiting room is quiet and reserved. People whose number is called enter through one door, but they do not emerge from the same one. Charles, though, looks almost relaxed. Comfortable. In his environment.
Molly takes little comfort in Charles's relaxation. Apparently, in addition to not filling out forms, pirates are also not accustomed to waiting in lines. At least not without a knife in their teeth.
Finally, their number is called. Charles stands up, and reaches down to Molly with a smile.
Molly stands. She's not hyperventillating. Certainly not. Not nearly enough to put her head between her knees anyway, which could be embarrassing. She smiles at Charles as she stands.
Glanworth walks through the door from which none return, and shortly they find themselves in a small office, occupied by a desk and a reedy-looking bureaucrat behind it. "Permits?" he asks, without looking up.
Molly looks at the desk-sitter, then looks at Charles. She stands quietly with her hands folded in front of her.
Glanworth nods to the man behind the desk, and produces a stack of papers from the briefcase. "Yessir." He hands over the papers. The bureaucrat begins looking through the paperwork.
Molly stares at the stack of papers. She seems unaware of it, but she begins to shift her weight slowly from foot to foot. All on the right foot. Then, after a moment or two, the weight sliiiides over to her left foot. Perhaps she's attempting to recreate the feel of a rolling sea for comfort.
The man behind the desk has yet to look up to meet their eyes. "Charles Adam Glanworth?" he asks. Chaz nods. "Yessir." The bureaucrat nods, a single stroke of his head. "Margaret Cuddy?"
Molly blinks, motionless again. "Sir? Yes, sir."
The bureaucrat nods, and speaks in a quick-tempoed monotone. "Do the both of you understand and aver to consent to the terms and conditions of the legal state known as matrimony within the laws of the Republic of Begma, and likewise declare that your consent is of free will and without coercion or reservation, and likewise intend to uphold all duties and responsibilities created by this acknowledgement in perpetuity, or until mortality or legal intervention render this agreement null and void?"
Molly looks to Charles, eyes open a bit over-large.
Glanworth nods. "I do."
Molly turns to face the man behind the desk, opens her mouth, and squeaks. She coughs lightly and tries again. "I do."
The bureaucrat nods, and reaches into his desk to pull out a rubber stamp.
Molly seems to relax slightly, now that she's said the words. She tenses all over again, though, as the man reaches into his desk.
The bureaucrat takes his stamp, and begins a rapid-fire back and forth between an ink pad and the paperwork. Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump.
Molly's eyes flicker back and forth between the papers and the ink pad. Her eyes narrow then relax with each successive thump.
One final thump thump, and the stamp is put away. The bureaucrat hands one of the forms back to Charles. He has not met their eyes throughout the entire transaction. "Congratulations the Republic now recognizes you as man and wife. Have a good day, please move along as others are in need of service."