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He carried her across the threshold of their apartment building's lobby. His apartment building really, but Victoire expected to make it hers. As a contractual agreement, a lot of marriage seemed to be very vague and unspoken (and certainly not written), but there were things that she felt the very concept of it entitled her to. Redecorating their home, for one thing.

He set her down on the landing to the stairs. Not exactly as romantic as if he'd done so after walking in their through actual door, but theirs was the penthouse, after all, and the elevator was out of service that eening. They made the walk up the stairwell more or less silently. Victoire, if not exactly excited to be married to this man, was nonetheless prepared to make a show of it.

She was a little taller than him and so she kept getting ahead, rather than walking side by side. To make up for it, she'd sneak back flirty little glances at him, and put a little extra wiggle in her climb. Which turned into a lot of extra wiggle in those massive panniers. In response, he'd offer nervous looking smiles, as if he were not sure what she was getting at, teasing him in that way.

When at last they finally did reach their door, he took the lead only to unlock it, before stepping aside. Ladies first, he gestured. She turned sideways so she could fit through the doorway in her dress, giggling back at him at the silliness of having to do so. He smiled to, though he still looked uncertain, and shut the door behind them.

Turning her back on him, but only to reach for the laces on the back of her dress. She looked over her shoulder. Pulling one lace loose of the bow knot, said, "Why don't you help me out of this costume, hmm?"

He rushed forward to assist, of course, like any gentleman would, but he undid the laces with no finesse. He pulled them loose as if they were merely looped through his shoes, not acknowledging her (she thought) obvious intent or even that he was pulling them off a woman at all. Victoire rolled her eyes when he couldn't see her. When he finished, she pulled her arms out of the sleeves and held the dress front up to keep herself covered. She turned back to face him, wearing a much more salascious smirk.

"Let's finish this in the bedroom, oui?" she said, trying to tug him along playfully with one hand while holding her dress up with the other.

"Ah... I'm afraid I can't. I have a very early appointment tomorrow," he said, planting himself so she couldn't pull him anymore. "Actually, why don't you take the bedroom and I'll sleep in the guest room tonight so I don't wake you when I leave?"

"You have an early appointment," Victoire asked increduously. "On the morning after our wedding?"

"I'm terribly sorry, darling," he said sheepishly. The word "darling" sounded especially awkward, like something he'd have to get used to. "It couldn't be rescheduled! But as soon as it's finished, I'll come right home, wake you up, and we'll leave for our honeymoon!" he said, his just-a-hair too cheery tone belying the hope that she'd be appeased.

Victoire was not the least bit pleased about this. She was certain there was no court in the land who wouldn't find him in breach of contract, if marriages actually expressly stated who was owed what. What sort of man begs off his own wedding night?

But... they were married and as her mother always said, marriage is about making compromises. Though Victoire could not imagine anything her parents had ever had to compromise on. And if they had, she was willing to bet her father never made her mother compromise on this. But all the same, it wasn't worth throwing a fit at this late hour. She still had all those fake birds to pick out of her hair.

"All right," she huffed, relenting. She reverted back to teasing to ease her discontent. "But do not let me sleep all day. I do not want to miss anything."

"Of course not, dear." His tone gave away his relief that she let it go, and the endearment was just as awkward. She waved hm off and retreated to their bedroom. Her bedroom, really.

It wasn't like she didn't have the rest of their lives, much less all of their honeymoon, to make her new husband meet the terms of their contract.

Nonetheless Victoire wondered, as she lay alone on the bed too big for just her if maybe the whole Marie Antoinette theme for the reception had been a bad omen.
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