champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
Mateo responds to her question with a musical laugh, and they weave somewhat to the side with the force that he squeezes her against him. "Of course I do," he tells her, and actually means it. "It is a term of endearment. Bella, it means beautiful. I think it suits you quite well, do you not agree?" Grinning hard enough to show his dimples and then some, the botanist tries to correct their trajectory and return them to the incline towards the Spyglass.
"Oh, now that sounds wonderful," he agrees of her wardrobe idea; quite why Mateo had never thought of it before he does not know. Perhaps they can even invite Flora to partake in the sharing as well. (Listen, he's allowed to have fashion envy of his sister, look at her).
The street finally seems to even out, more empty than any other as the great observatory looms overhead. "Nonna? She... mm, she was my father's mother," Mateo explains. "She was a very magical lady. I think you would have liked her."
"Oh, now that sounds wonderful," he agrees of her wardrobe idea; quite why Mateo had never thought of it before he does not know. Perhaps they can even invite Flora to partake in the sharing as well. (Listen, he's allowed to have fashion envy of his sister, look at her).
The street finally seems to even out, more empty than any other as the great observatory looms overhead. "Nonna? She... mm, she was my father's mother," Mateo explains. "She was a very magical lady. I think you would have liked her."
