Rubbicube
She never spoke. Speaking just wasn't her thing, it gave her terrible anxiety, and she was better at writing anyways. She figured her words carried more weight that way, and besides, she told herself, it let him really spill out everything when he needed to talk. She couldn't interrupt him, and in the same way, he couldn't really interrupt her when she had to type her heart out- she figured it was a comfort the two of them relished in. However, she knew this was one of those rare times where she was alright speaking.
"-- but you don't have to say yes or anything, I mean, I totally get it if you're not up for marriage or anything, I swear! It's all fine with me. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that I'd lo-" She wondered how long she'd absently been staring him down, lost in her own thoughts. No wonder he was all over the place- her considerate face was normally mistaken for an "I-will-glare-daggers-into-your-soul" kind of look. "Hey." She took his free hand and interlaced her fingers with his, a gesture which, at this point in their relationship, felt beyond natural. "Of course I'd be delighted to marry you, you numbnut."