Hallbjorn nodded when Kara thanked him for making dinner. He was glad that she enjoyed it. He ate while Kara spoke about what she wanted to do back at Jackrabbit Junction. The thought of going to the senior's center did not sit well with him. It was a vestige of the culture that raised him. The elderly, on their way to the straw death, touched off a vague sense of unease. But he would not protest against going. It was important to Kara to go and he would go with her and play his part.<br/><br/>He noted her pause, and he had a bunch of spaghetti wound around the tines of his fork. Those strands of spaghetti coiled around a meatball speared upon the fork and held it in. The blond male kept the tines of the fork touching the plate and waited for what came next. Again, Hallbjorn nodded to what Kara said.<br/><br/>"You are my mate and my wife." The male affirmed, his words letting her know that he did not object and that he mirrored her feelings. "I do not have a last name for you to take - in my time we did not have such things as now. Walker is a fine enough name, and it comes from your parents. Keep it and bear it in honour of them." The man said. It was a suggestion, not a command. An option that was there for her. If she wanted to take a name from him that could be accommodated.<br/><br/>"What sorts of things do you want to bring here?" Hallbjorn asked. He was curious to know more about Kara, and did not want to wait. He glanced down briefly at his spaghetti and began to eat again, but his eyes rose and his attention was mainly upon Kara. The rest was devoted only to keeping his shirt free of spaghetti stains.