"Grace." Luke thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair. "Noun: Seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion. Hum..." He mulled it over. "Certainly an applicable definition." Tap tap tap. He tapped at the down arrow key. "Grace: A disposition to be generous or helpful." He smirked "Perhaps not."
"The state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God. An excellence or power granted by God." Luke chortled. "Sounds more like Joan."
"A favor rendered by one who need not do so; indulgence. YEAH." He huffed. That particular definition seemed to be how she regarded their relationship, as if he should be so lucky to have the favor. "Which I am but that's not the point." Luke scrolled down a little further on his screen to a spot that read, 'TRANSITIVE VERB: graced , grac·ing , grac·es' He mumbled more as he read on. "To honor or favor: Used in a sentence. 'You grace our table with your presence.'"
"IDIOMS: In the bad graces of. Out of favor with. With bad grace. In a grudging manner." He frowned a little and grumbled. "Stupid American Heritage Dictionary." The words were becoming more accurate however less pleasing. '...in a grudging manner.' Echoed in his head. "Used in a sentence: I agreed to sign that stupid contract in a grudging manner."
"Grace." He said once more aloud. "Maybe I should submit a definition of my own." Luke Girardi opened up his word processor and typed in two words. 'Grace: Noun....' He paused for a long moment as a thousand definitions, all of them rather formal yet somehow inadequate, rushed to the forefront of his mind. His fingers then gently clicked four letters. 'L-o-v-e'.