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Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra
“Charm?” Harrison asked raising a brow, “I’ve not even started properly to charm you, a lady like you should not simply be swayed by pretty words as true as they are. Do not call it charm- till I properly charm you my lady, then it shall be charm,” Harrison teased, his thumb rubbing on her hand as he stared at her like she was a fascinating painting that he had recently just seen- and perhaps to him she were. Most people Harrison found fascinating he compared them to paintings, because paintings were the one thing that fascinated him the most- brightened him on gloomy days. His emotions mostly, he enjoyed putting them on paintings, it made them more easy for Harrison to understand.
Ms. Mehta, was perhaps one of the loveliest paintings Harrison had the opportunity of meeting , she had a certain uniqueness that drew him with a speed, he had never truly seen the type of outfit she wore- a saree in a british ball, most people wore traditional European outfits so to see a lady wearing a non european outfit fascinated him- it stood out from the crowd boldly and Harrison was known to love the bold, the unique, he was not one for blandness for what was considered the norm- as the English norm he found to be quite boring, quite the same. “You truly have that much confidence in me?” Harrison asked, a sly smile on his face “Oh Miss Mehta, you do not know truly how pleased you make me. A woman like you believing in a man like me is a blessing from the stars. Do tell ms, do butterflies like gazing at the stars?” Harrison asked as their dance began, his eyes never leaving her as their bodies moved in the sync of the music and Harrison had his typical smile- the type of smile that had made many fallen. “Do you my lady, like gazing at the stars?” He asked the same question but this time calling her his lady instead of just ‘butterflies’