"Oh, no, that's not right... there can't be any such thing as 'love at first sight,’ if anything it's 'lust at first sight.'" Dark eyebrows furrowed over royal blue eyes as the sheet of pad paper was crumpled and dropped to the side.

"Very Freudian of you." Even the speaker’s voice smirked as she facetiously served as a sounding board for the bride-to-be’s postulations on the contents of her wedding vows. A very mouthy sounding board.

"Right, because if it's true love, it would have to first be founded on friendship... which you can’t get ‘at first sight.’"

"Oh yes, Noin-sama, that is just as true as everyone says-- one of the only such sayings that is mostly right... True love *is* based on friendship first."

"You mean like *our* relationship?" cut in the young woman who had heretofore been merely listening attentively to the philosophical conversation between her lover and her brother’s soon-to-be-wife.

"Precisely!" The blonde in black smiled like the cat that caught the canary and was not at all ashamed of herself, but was rather proud of her prize.

"Friendship? You contradicted every word I said!"

"True, but I also respected every word you said..." countered the cat.

"That doesn't make you my friend, that makes you annoying!" Relena threw up her hands in exasperation and pouted in her love’s general direction.

Sensing that her canary had her feathers ruffled, Dorothy shifted her legs over and patted the now exposed second cushion of the loveseat for her catch to sit upon. Relena vacated the pillowed window-ledge for the much warmer companionship of her lover.

Noin, pretending to be oblivious to this minor squabble that dictated normalcy with the two {and, as it had once been remarked, by one Duo Maxwell, "If they ever stop fighting, our feet would get pretty cold when Hell freezes over!"}, continued. "Well, I suppose it could be 'like at first sight'..."

"As in: "I like the way she looks?'" Dorothy raised one oddly-shaped eyebrow.

"Or he."

"Well, yes if you go in for that sort of thing..." Eyebrow-girl waved one hand to the side carelessly.

"Which I obviously do..."

"Is it obvious?" Dorothy pursed her lips and looked as though she lived to make life difficult for Noin. Which wasn’t far from the truth at all, she lived to make life difficult for *everybody.*

Noin leaned over in the rather comfortable armchair she was occupying and made an "Is she daft?" gesture to Relena.

"Yes, it is, Dottie, and you know it, you're just antagonizing Miss Noin..."

"Well, just because she's marrying the boy, doesn't mean..."

If Noin hadn't been so used to Dorothy's antics by this point, having lived for a while with Zechs in the Peacecraft mansion that was shared with his little sister and her counterpart, Dorothy would have been thrown out of the bay window so fast her headband would spin.

Dorothy cocked one of her infamous eyebrows in mock suspicion. "I don't know, one can never be too sure over who is marrying for heart and who is just another gold-digger..."

"Gold-digger!" the Baronet and former OZ ace pilot huffed, "Well, now! I’ll just have to reconsider letting you be one of my bridesmaids..." she said the last part with a faux flippancy learned from the master of the trade himself, again, Duo Maxwell.

Relena coughed, "I think you had ought to get back to work on your vows, Miss Noin." She pointed towards the empty notepad in Noin’s hands with her chin, and Noin bushed, nestled among the crumpled first thirty-two sheets of the pad.

"Why are they plural? Isn’t it one vow? There’s one answer."

"Dorothy, you're distracting me!" Noin was trying to look stern, but the fact that she wanted to laugh was greatly taking away from the glare.

"She's been doing it all day, haven’t you noticed?"

"Are you going to insult my religion again, Dorothy?"

"It's not insult, merely inquiry, Miss Noin. Why ‘Vows’ instead of ‘Vow’? It makes more sense..."

"Fine, fine, we'll call it a vow... I am trying to write my *vow*... are you happy now?"

"It's a start!"

Relena looked up from her industrious fiddling with Dorothy’s hair to inquire, "Why are you going to have such a big wedding anyway, Miss Noin?"

"May I plead temporary insanity?"

"Doesn't work as much as people say it does..." remarked Dorothy absently. The other two women only looked minorly alarmed at this remark, before returning to their respective chores of vow-writing and hair-twirling. After a few minutes, Dorothy broke the silence once more. "How is the vow going, Miss Noin?"

The older woman shocked the other two by crowing, "I’ve got it!"

"Your vow, Miss Noin?"

"Vows," reminded the princess softly, brushing the tip of her nose with the ends of Dorothy’s hair.

"Whatever," her lover replied flippantly, smirking.

"No, I’ve figured it out…"

"What, Miss Noin? What did you figure out?" Dorothy faked anticipation of Noin’s discovery.

"Why you keep interrupting me!"

"You have?" Feigning surprise, the former Romefellar tool raised her eyebrows to her hairline.

"I’m not sure *Dottie* knows..."

"*You* don't want me to marry Zechs!"

"What are you implying?" If you ever seen a cat with it's feather's ruffled… well, first off, what were you on?

"Huh? Nothing, I just know why now."

"Oh, do tell, Miss Noin," smirked Relena.

"That’s exactly it! You two don't want me getting married because then you will have to stop with your incessant "Miss Noining" me!"

"Why, that's ridiculous, Miss Noin!"

Relena looked mildly chagrined, "Oh, dear, our evil plan has been foiled..."

Noin... er... Lucrezia looked rather pleased with her discovery, and went back to chewing on the end of the pencil, trying to come up with her vows... er… vow. Relena went back to flicking a piece of Dorothy’s hair, trying to come up with a new *something* to call the-Ozzie-formerly-known-as-Noin. Dorothy went back to thinking whatever devious thoughts lurk behind those eyebrows of hers. All we can really know for certain, is that they involved Relena, Apricot Marmalade, and the use that was found for the future Mrs. Peacecraft's exceedingly large and comfortable armchair last Wednesday morning during breakfast. And we can know for certain, that shortly after these thoughts were had, and remarked upon, the raven haired former-lieutenant would no longer be occupying aforementioned armchair, and would, in fact, be eyeing every piece of furniture she deemed sturdy enough with much caution.

We can also be sure that ‘Miss Noin’ would, at some point during the day, become entirely fed up with the antics of the two younger girls and leave their company for the remainder of the day, to write her ‘vow’ in private, where she would not be slowly driven crazy. This, of course, would leave the other two girls alone—which was their plan all along.

Well, Dorothy’s, anyway.