"A husband's love for his wife." She corrects, firmly. Gangadhar loved his splendor, his extravagance, and he had loved in just the same way. God, she missed him. She missed how he took delight in so much of the world. In all things beautiful and artful.

Though - she tries not to look too excited, too enthused, it wouldn't do but when she looks back to him, her gaze is barely kept bright. "I would... like that."