Jasmine Yale reached out her hand, "I don't want the betrothal gift; I want something else."
Sylvan Cheney turned his head and looked at her tender profile, "What do you want?"
"I want that ring."
"I won't give it."
"Why won't you give it? Why?" Jasmine Yale turned her head to meet his eyes, "Why won't you give it?"
"What do you need the ring for?"
"To get married! Don't people wear rings when they get married? I like that one! You don't have to give me a betrothal gift; just give me the ring, okay?"
"I won't give it."
"So stingy..." Jasmine Yale couldn't help but exclaim.
He didn't give it.
If he wouldn't give it, then that was it.
It was his thing, after all; she couldn't just steal it.
Jasmine Yale turned her head again, looking somewhat angrily at the fireworks.
From high up in the building, the surrounding scene was fully visible; a dizzying array of light and color, illumination and revelry.
