There are three constants to be expected when walking on a brisk Corsican afternoon: a warm breeze at your tail, an impassioned support (or contentious rebuttal) of the radical new chestnut-tree tax, and an unprovoked invitation to wed a charming if not slightly bemused local girl
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[Except they're actually not for him, because he's still trying to prove himself and let her know how much he cares. But he has eyes for no one else and will remain true for however long it takes.]
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You'll serve as an inspiration for every romantic on the boat! Go! Spread your word!
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O mein Gott!
[She's so horrified she can't even speak English]
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[omg what is he doing]
Ah, Samuel...What...what are you doing, here?
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And, between you and I-
[and everyone on the comm, including the other girls; still, he whispers as though this is sensitive information]
-I think you've the best chance of them all of finding a keeper! I can hardly wait to walk you down the aisle- Haha, how exciting!
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I-I do not...think I need a man, Samuel...
[Kill her. Please. Now.]
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All I can see is a handsome young man, yet unidentified, years from now. His day at the bank desk has been exceedingly trying. His neck is sore. His eyes are red. But what keeps him going? Nothing less than the thought of his beautiful young bride at home, singing him to comfort!
It's so touching, I may need to sit down. Thankfully, I am already seated. This is the sort of foresight you want in a matchmaker.
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This is such a load of yakkow shit.
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No.
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[Maybe she's the type Zeke would like?]
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...Samuel.
Stop being an idiot.
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You're an idiot.
If any of the women on board want to sell themselves, they can do it under their own power. It isn't exactly difficult.
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Forget I mentioned this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
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