The building wasn’t crowded, the civic centre usually never was as most people just seemed to do these things from their own homes now, but they were traditional in ways like this. An old pen scratched against paper but he knew this was mostly just for looks and to commemorate how important the event was, they had already filled out the actual digital forms. The Federation always had a thing for flair, but maybe that was just the Vulcans and their way of preserving old ideas and traditions.
It was done, simple as that. Malcolm set down the pen on the counter and pushed the paper forward, watching as it slipped under the glass pane to the man on the other side. Grey eyes looked up to the other, a grin on his usually resting bitch face, as people called it. He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose, making sure they stayed on right and wouldn’t fall off. “So, we’re married now. Now what?” Just another day in their lives, nothing unusual.
“The minute he [Thranduil] sees Thorin back in this side of the world, he knows exactly why he’s here. Why else would he be here? Unless he was going to go to the Lonely Mountain and try to get his throne back and his treasure back. That’s why he’s here. So it’s like those questions: ‘why are you here?’, ‘what are you doing here?’, isn’t to find out the information.”