[ Nothing about this chick was recognizable to him. Save for having a gun pointed at him like another idiot he knew. He feels like he could survive this if he got shot, but he's also not keen on testing that theory? Ragna may be able to heal quick enough, and even from worse, but he's not a masochist. He's taken more cuts, stab wounds, bullets, the list goes on, and they all hurt like hell; toughing himself through it all was just in his nature. ]

The Valentine?

[ She's already correcting herself. Okay then. Ragna's still keeping his hands up for now, not wanting to make any sudden moves while she's the one calling the shots. Potentially literally. ]

Husband?! [ He looks down at himself once more, breath hitching and resetting on numerous occasions like he was a failing .exe program until he finally sputters back into coherent sentences again. ] How the hell am I supposed to know?! I was sleeping under a goddamn tree in the middle of nowhere before I woke up in bed with you.

[ Clearly not in some fanciful white tuxedo. Which reminds him. ]

Do you remember going to bed in that number??