Freezing for a beat when the term slips out, Aerith remembers herself with remarkable quickness, swatting his chest lightly. "That we are, my prince," it's an awkward feeling thing to say at the moment, but, regular non-noble couples have terms of endearment for one another, she's read about it in books, and she feels the need to cover for his mistake.

"You throw a tantrum for my praise, and when it's your turn, you give me next to nothing."