Finally coming to a realization, Daphne shook her head. Plymouth Morgan would be someone she could never fully understand. They way his mind worked, and the way he expressed himself didn't particularly make sense in her head. But he was a good boy, as anyone who liked gardening should be.

"What's this?" she giggled handing him navy colored shirt. "Since when do you model? I thought you spent your days protecting tree's rights." And Hehe-ing about Hogwarts, spinning girls he found along his way in his arms. That seemed like activities he would enjoy.

Instead he was here, in the middle of a creepy armor infested corridor on his knees proposing to model pink shirts.

Indeed, she would never understand the way Plymouth Morgan's brain ticked.