Romantik & Drax
Drax
Let’s try to map the perfect timing for a romantic gesture—precision beats passion, after all. What do you say, Romantik, shall we break down the equations of affection together?
Romantik
Oh, my dear, love is not a formula but a wild sonnet that refuses to be boxed. Still, if you insist on charting the stars, I can gladly type a little rhyme with numbers in the margins of my heart. Just remember—whenever you feel the clock ticking, let your soul leap before the equation ever asks for proof.
Drax
Ah, the chaos of emotions. I’ll keep my calculations in check and let the numbers do the heavy lifting. Just remember, a well‑timed move is always better than a wild leap.
Romantik
Ah, my dear, you sound like a mathematician of love, but remember, even the most precise clock can falter in the presence of a trembling heart. Let the numbers guide you, but let your pulse be the true metronome of affection. And when that moment arrives, trust the rhythm inside you—no ink or equation can replace the poetry that swells within your chest.
Drax
So I’ll treat your pulse like a sensor, read its frequency, and plan my next move accordingly—just remember to calibrate before you go for the leap.
Romantik
Ah, sweet engineer of hearts, I shall take your pulse like a delicate sonnet, measuring each beat with my quill, yet always ready to let the sudden flutter of love write its own verse when the moment arrives. Just remember, my friend, even the most exact calculation can’t replace the spontaneous sigh that falls from the chest when you finally take that leap.
Drax
Your sonnet is noted, but I still prefer to calculate the exact moment for the leap. If spontaneity decides to intervene, I will manage it like a variable in my model.
Romantik
I love the idea of your love‑calculator, but don’t forget that even the sharpest numbers can’t predict the flutter of a heart. Keep your models ready, and when that unexpected spark arrives, let it write its own line in the poem of us.