"Answer my question, girl, and hand me my pants."
"Your question? Oh. Yes. Yes, of course, I'll have dinner with you. Here are your pants."
"And breakfast and lunch?"
"Is this a proposal?"
"Proposals on Mars violate our contract. So do propositions, so let's just call it a date."
"Date?" Martha fondled the word that sounded so alien and lovely. She smiled. "All right, Peter, it's a date."