Blackwater brushed nervously at his bangs, staring at the small plaque outside the Clerk of the Peoples' door. Room 212, 1:30 P.M., B. Jones and N. Knickerbocker. They were really going through with this... This would make it final, permanent; it would legally transfer ownership of half of his assets to Neets... Bleh, how -practical- and coarse it sounded, like that. Not that going through with this would make much of a difference.

Turning, the trader wandered back down the hallway, running a hand through his hair. This would also firm up a few other little legal details; adding that much more stability to their sometimes precarious little world. Speaking of precarious... Resisting the urge to 'fade in on Neets, he wondered where the younger man could be.

He took Neets' hand, ignoring the sudden bite of the young man's fingernails into the back of his hand, standing tall and awaiting the Clerk's next words.

"Do you so solemnly swear to love, honor, cherish, obey this man; and to never raise a hand to him in anger while calling it love, so long as you both shall live?"

Blackwater took his time about answering, though it's from a desire to speak clearly and steadily than any reticence regarding the situation.

"I do."

The Clerk turns his attention to the green-haired man that keeps looking between himself and the S'Harran. So young, and apparently so in love...