A/N: How I think Esmé and Jerome married/met.
It was a busy day at the supermarket, and Jerome Squalor was pushing powered cookie boxes into his shopping cart, when a thin and rather intimidating woman stepped into his path.
"Excuse me, but did you know that cookies have been out for like, a decade?"
"Out?" Jerome repeated. "But, ma'am, they cannot be out. Although I don't want to argue."
"Out," snapped the woman. "In in 'uncool' or 'not in style.'"
Jerome shrugged. "I won't argue," he said simply. "If you say so."
The woman looked him up and down. "You'd be cute if you got more in things to wear. And having a husband is so in right now..."
Jerome watched her. "Uh. Okay..."
"So, marry me," she said.
Jerome shrugged. "Well, I don't want to argue. Why not?"
She smiled, "Great. I'm Esmé, the city's sixth most important financial advisor."
Jerome nodded. "I'm Jerome."