"Oh, that's - that's lovely. They seem like lovely people."

Solin's been alone for quite some time now - his parents long gone. He never did figure himself out until after...sometimes, he wonders whether they would have understood. But he isn't unhappy now, and he likes to think that would have mattered.

In fact, he's very happy right now, stumbling around the dancefloor with this radiant, vivacious young man. He reddens right back when he feels the nestle into his hair. (Again, really glad he washed it. He still smells a little of lanolin, of grass and hay.)

"Me? Oh, I'm - I'm just a farmer, a weaver. I'm such a plain thing. I'm pretty sure they could put out every candle in here and you would still be glowing."