Dating.
I hadn't done it in... well. Ever.
Not properly. Unless you counted the time I accidentally ate fried chicken with a coworker and she called it a "team bonding session."
So when Mirae asked me out, my brain did the only reasonable thing: it crashed like a bad internet connection and hasn't rebooted since.
I spent the next 24 hours pacing the store, mumbling to myself like a madman.
"What do I wear? Should I dress casual? Fancy? Adventurer chic? Do I even own adventurer chic?! No, no, if I wear the tracksuit, I'll look like I just rolled out of bed. If I wear the suit, I'll look like I'm proposing marriage. WHY IS THERE NO IN-BETWEEN?!"
Spicy waddled by, dragging a broom twice his size, and muttered in his toddler-voice:
"Papa ugly clothes. Wear bag."
I stopped mid-panic. "...A bag?!"
Spicy nodded solemnly.
"Bag strong. Bag powerful."
"Bag gets me arrested" I groaned.
When Mirae showed up outside the shop that evening, she looked... well.
Drop-dead gorgeous. A simple dress, tied at the waist, her hair done up, makeup light but enough to make my chest tighten like I'd swallowed an entire shelf of ramen without chewing.
I opened the door. "Uh… hi."
She smiled. "Hi. Ready?"
"No" I blurted.
Then slapped my face. "I mean YES. Totally. 100%."
Smooth.
Like butter left in the sun too long.
The plan was simple: nice dinner at a local tavern, then maybe a walk through the town square.
What actually happened:
First, the restaurant "lost" our reservation.
Second, the replacement table was directly next to a bard who thought volume equaled talent.
Third, the menu had exactly two things I recognized: "meat" and "slightly less meat."
I panicked, ordered "slightly less meat" and got a plate of charred mystery animal that looked like it died twice. Mirae ordered soup. The soup exploded. Literally. Some enchanted cauldron malfunction. It detonated like fireworks, covering half the tavern in boiling broth.
Mirae laughed it off. I tried to play it cool, but my pants were soaked and smelled like garlic for the rest of the night.
Then Spicy showed up.
I don't know how.
I don't know why.
But halfway through dinner, I noticed a pair of glowing eyes peeking out of a breadbasket.
"Papa! Papa date!" he whispered loudly. "Papa bad at date!"
Mirae blinked. "...Did that bread just talk?"
I choked on water. "NOPE. Definitely not. Just. Uh. Echo. You know, tavern acoustics."
Then Spicy sneezed fire. The breadbasket burst into flames.
The staff scrambled. People screamed. I grabbed the basket and ran outside, stomping on it until sparks stopped flying. When I came back, Mirae was covering her mouth, shoulders shaking.
She wasn't horrified. She was laughing.
We salvaged the evening with a walk.
Of course, it immediately started raining.
Not a drizzle, oh no, a biblical flood.
We huddled under a tiny umbrella I bought off a street vendor for 2 silver. It was so small we were basically pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, bumping into each other every step.
My brain screamed TOO CLOSE TOO CLOSE TOO CLOSE the entire time.
By the time we made it back to her place, I was a soggy mess, my shirt clinging, my shoes squelching with every step. I looked like someone who had lost a fight with a swamp.
Mirae, on the other hand, looked radiant. Rain-damp hair framing her face, cheeks pink from the cold, smiling at me like the disaster date hadn't fazed her at all.
She hesitated at the door.
"Thanks for tonight. Even if it was..."
She gestured at my dripping form.
"...chaotic."
"Chaotic?" I said, bluntly. "It was a war crime."
She giggled, then leaned forward and kissed me.
Just a soft, quick kiss, but it was enough to fry my brain like a shorted-out dungeon torch.
When I finally stumbled home, I collapsed behind the counter, staring at the ceiling.
Spicy clambered onto my chest.
"Papa kissed. Papa dumb. Papa lucky."
"...Shut up, Spicy" I muttered, but I couldn't stop smiling.
Points: No Delivery Today
Balance: 1,485