"There are far fewer bunnies in London than in California," he tells her, staring at a remarkably unremarkable piece of wall somewhere up and to the left of her face.

He's not at all sure that this is actually the case - he's never given the matter much thought one way or another - but he has to say something, and the gentleman he aspires to be seen as would never say: "Being engaged to you these last hours made me happier, angrier, and more alive than I have felt in a long time, and you are a bloody brilliant kisser. Will you run away with me?"

He just hopes her gift for cutting through subtext doesn't fail him now, because he isn't feeling particularly gentlemanly right now, and she is likely to object to being tossed over his shoulder like a harlequin heroine.