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Summary
Maxwell has never understood the benefit of codifying relationships with words and contracts when it was actions that mattered most. And Torse? Well, his design didn't prioritize feelings, least of all those required for a romantic relationship. What the two of them have together doesn't need naming and needn't be examined. In fact, it shouldn't be. If it were, Torse and Maxwell might be forced to confront feelings they swore they could never have.
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There were few other couples Maxwell could look to for a reason to bother with the institution. His grandmother passed away years before he was born. Samwell made it a point not to bring his wife to the Gotch Manor. Hatwell never married because — well, because he’s fucking Hatwell. Who would marry him? No one. Not even for the money, of which there was vanishingly little left. And Wealwell… was Wealwell. Devastatingly attractive but so bizarre and aloof that most romantic overtures bounced right off of him. Nothing stuck unless Wealwell was the one throwing it, and his aim was god awful.