Mercedes enters, Will confesses his future, and I bubble as the Domaine Chandon enters the scene.
Just how is it that you manage to make my heart stutter, my mind skip a beat, and my body resign to one?
A little more than often I wander at your intention, your probable suffering soul and my future.
I wonder if I should fear you, and wonder if you should not fear me.
Doomed, as if destiny were to have anything to do with it,
intended, as if you did.