They met at a ball, under a shooting star; across a crowded room their eyes met, bright with starlight. "All right," Rinoa thought, "I know a heavy-handed romantic moment when I see one," and she proceeded to demand a dance from him, because how many chances does a girl get for a moment that serendipitously sappy?
As it turns out, quite a few. Rinoa would plead gross intoxication when people asked, "'You're going to like me?' Really?" and reminded them that she was the one married to the mysterious stranger, ta much, and feel free to cram it.