He somehow knew the answer would shock him, yet nothing could prepare him for when she finally answered. He stared at her for a moment, silent still and wide-eyed, lips parted in dumbfounded surprise. Ninety years... was a whole life. More than that, even. Had he survived during the war, he definitely would be dead by now.

It was almost too much to swallow down, to believe. And yet, after everything he had seen, could he really not believe it? More importantly, could he ever not believe her? Diana, ever so genuine in her actions and words both, always so open and honest, almost to the point of naïveté, who could not and would not ever say a word that she didn't mean. Not to him.

She wasn't as naïve now, he realized suddenly. She wasn't really the same person he had known decades ago— but then time had a tendency to change people like that. But that didn't matter. It wasn't even a thought or concern that slipped through his mind just then.

When tears trailed down her cheeks, he felt a knot form in his throat, both his hands cupping her face, thumbs brushing away the tears. "My God, Diana," he breathed out, his voice shaking its way out of him as he stood on the brink of crying himself. "I could live a thousand times over and I would always, always choose to stay with you. Of course— of course it's alright. I'll never leave you, not if I can help it."