Work Text:
Blake Nguyen comes barreling out of the back room at the Big Bean, triumphantly announcing “I found it!” without first observing that the Big Bean’s regional manager had stopped in for a surprise visit that day and was quizzing Icarus on store policies and ‘his thoughts’ on the business.
It’s more than a small relief when the man turns his attention to Blake, who’s now realized who it is. “Ah, another employee hard at work!” the manager says with fake joviality. “Found what?”
“Good afternoon sir, what a surprise to see you! I found the flyers we’d printed out for the upcoming International Coffee Day event this week. We were running low up on them up front, and no one could remember where they were placed. You see, a few of us are participating in the live entertainment, in order to promote the café… here, let me show you one of them…” Blake’s all smiles and smooth obsequiousness. He’s really, really good at ‘managing’ the managers, and he subtly interposes himself between Icarus and the other man.
Icarus is thankful that Blake’s taken over making the man dance to his puppet strings, laughing at the lame jokes and giving that fake customer-service smile, but unfortunately, he sees another danger. The sun gods had been reclining in the uncomfortable café chairs, pretending to drink their beverages and munch pastries, while watching Icarus try to fend off the manager’s prying questions. Both of them give him suspicious, curious looks at the mention of the event.
Icarus tries to ignore them as he goes back to counting the till and wiping down the countertop.
The bell rings around fifteen minutes later as the manager exits the café, and Blake wanders over to Icarus. His usual facial expression is back – something like a cross between a fierce resting bitch face, and a constant low-key annoyance. Icarus has been told before that they have amusingly similar facial expressions. “What I actually found, was that YouTube video, with Game of Thrones acted out by sheep. Here, check it out.” He hands his phone over to Icarus, who watches: it’s exactly as advertised.
“I can’t believe you happened to have the flyers in your hand,” he says, watching as a tiny baby sheep appears to slap a larger sheep wearing a crown, with Tyrion’s and Joffrey’s voices superimposed.
“You have to keep props ready at all times. You never know when some asshole will wander through and need to be dealt with. You’ll learn, young grasshopper.” Blake takes a stunningly cynical view of how to play the people in charge. He can switch from fawningly helpful sycophant to irritated foul-mouthed conman and back without batting an eye. But the professors, managers, and anyone else Blake works his magic on, they all eat it up and never doubt him. It’s equal parts horrifying and inspiring.
Currently, Blake is digging through his pocket for cigarettes and a lighter. “I need a smoke after that crap. Be back in a few minutes.”
“Sure, okay,” Icarus replies, and braces himself.
He doesn’t have to wait long. As soon as Blake disappears through the back door, Apollo and Helios are sidling up to the counter.
“So. ‘International Coffee Day’ this week, is it?” Apollo asks, drumming his fingers casually on the countertop.
“How interesting,” Helios agrees.
“I wonder if that’s the ‘boring work thing’ written on the calendar on your refrigerator for the same date and time. You’ve become quite dissembling lately, Icarus; I think Helios has been a bad influence on you.”
“Yeah – hey!”
“You vultures can stop circling,” Icarus informs them. “I’m not part of the live entertainment crew, so it is gonna be boring for me, I’m just making coffee all afternoon. We drew straws and Blake’s stuck dancing.”
“I’ll admit I’m disappointed that you won’t be performing, but surely you know we’d want to spend time with you.”
“Yeah, and this flyer makes it look like fun! Music, dancing, raffles… it’s the most interesting thing you’ve done for work yet, why wouldn’t you want to invite us?” Helios is waving the damn sheet around – why did Blake have to use that as his prop?!
“Because you guys are gonna make trouble and be annoying!”
“We certainly will not!” Apollo says, affronted, at the exact same moment that Helios shoots back with “Yeah, so?”
They glance at each other for a moment before Apollo clears his throat.
“In any case, there’s no room for discussion. It’s decided; we will attend your boring work thing in order to spend more quality time with our favorite mortal,” he says firmly, apparently dismissing the need for any further thoughts from the favorite mortal.
Icarus drops his head to the counter in resignation and savagely hopes that Blake’s costume for the entertainment looks really stupid.
—————
The costume does look really stupid, and it pleases Icarus to see it.
The coffee shop has a small stage for when it hosts live bands or book/poetry readings, and currently it’s Blake’s corner of Hell where he’s made to dance to sanitized versions of pop music. He’s wearing a furry suit, basically: a bunny wearing a beret, inexplicably, and a t-shirt with the Big Bean logo on it. In spite of the heat and the humiliation, though, he’s up there giving his dance moves 100%, possibly because the bunny mask disguises his identity.
Blake has got moves. A gracefulness and athleticism that was apparently freed from the short, grouchy young man when he put on the bunny suit. Icarus has no idea how he’s managing to do The Worm while wearing that bulky fur armor but he’s making it work.
Icarus is staring openly, a half-grin on his face, while Blake catches his breath with a simple Cabbage Patch (albeit with a lot more hip-swaying that Icarus could manage); then merges neatly into modified MC Hammer shuffle and finishes with a spectacular death drop, all to an acoustic version of P!nk’s “Get the Party Started.”
He’s clapping with everyone else and cheering when he finally glances over and notices the customer standing there patiently waiting for service.
“Oh! My apologies, I didn’t see you standing there!” Icarus hurriedly activates the register.
The customer waves his hand unconcernedly. “No worries. I also was captivated by the performance. It’s quite good!”
There’s a hint of an accent, though Icarus can’t quite place it. This customer is exceptionally attractive: a man in perhaps his mid-twenties with dark skin, bright green eyes, a flawless half-shave haircut and neat short beard. And a warm, inviting smile. No one else is in line, so Icarus smiles back. “Isn’t he? I never would have guessed he’d be capable! Never saw this kind of action before today.”
The customer looks surprised. “You know the dancer?”
“Oh sure, he works here normally. He’s just dancing for the event.”
“I had supposed he must have been a professional. Even with the handicap of the unfortunate suit, his dancing was so graceful, so expressive.”
“I’m starting to wonder myself – maybe he’s been keeping it a secret all this time.”
The customer smiles and rests his elbow on the countertop. He’s quite tall, Icarus notices. “I suppose there is not much opportunity to demonstrate certain skills in such a job. I would bet that all the workers here have secret talents that one would not normally get to see. Perhaps you? You have a secret talent as well?”
The customer winks. Icarus fights a blush.
“Ahaha, nope, my only talent is for making Big, Beautiful, Beany Coffee,” he recites the company’s motto.
“That is a terrible slogan. Please, it pains me to see such a sweet young man forced to utter such words.”
Icarus puts his hand over his eyes and chuckles, shaking his head. “Sir, please.”
The customer laughs with him, soft and low. Icarus notices he has dimples. “I must practice my charm, yes? How else to impress the man with such a talent for coffee?” He straightens up and gestures and the special event menu, including some fairly unusual flavors. “Please, surprise me with something exciting. Such passionate dancing shown by your friend has left me in a mood to experience all that life has to offer.”
Icarus chews his lip briefly and considers if what he’s about to do would be out of line. “…May I make a suggestion?”
——————————————————
Apollo glares, furiously, at the presumptuous man flirting brazenly with Icarus – Apollo is not close enough to hear their conversation, but it is clear that Icarus is smiling and nodding and enjoying the attention.
The final straw comes when he sees Icarus leaning in close to the man, to speak to him conspiratorially and whatever he says, makes the man’s face light up, while that small, knowing smile tugs at his mouth. Icarus gives the man a cup of one of the disgusting, heavily-sweetened brewed swill drinks that modern mortals find so compelling, and points at the coffee-themed clock on the wall. Perhaps telling him when he is off shift, and available for more flirting.
Apollo doesn’t actually doubt Icarus – at least, not in this instance. Apollo knows that he, personally, the god of the sun and knowledge and music and other blessed things, and the most beautiful of gods, simply doesn’t have competition here. So no, he isn’t worried. But Icarus is an innocent soul, and might be susceptible to unfiltered charm from even a clearly unsavory inferior being.
Nevertheless, Apollo isn’t the god he was thousands of years ago. He’s mature now, and keeps his cool, no matter how provoked. So he doesn’t storm over – he saunters, casually and unconcernedly. He leans, also casually and unconcernedly, over the countertop, He rests his elbow casually on cheap faux-wood, and fixes a calm and unconcerned death glare on the impudent suitor.
“Icarus. Good afternoon. It’s a pity you’ve been so busy with all of these customers. I’ve hardly had a chance to see you, my lover, all day.”
Icarus looks mortified. “Apollo!”
The flirtatious man clearly takes the hint, but instead of being cowed or apologetic, his eyes crinkle in amusement and he ineffectively attempts to hide his smile by taking a drink of his swill.
“Ahh – yes, this drink is delightful, as you said it would be. I apologize for imposing on so much of your time; I should leave you to your, ah-hah, lover now.”
“He’s not – you weren’t – ahh, sir, I apologize about this – ”
“Nonsense. He is your lover, no? Love makes us all act foolish. I think it is endearing.” The man nods to them both and retires away to a table, turning his attention once again to the dancing rabbit-man.
“Apollo, that was extremely rude,” Icarus chastises him, folding his arms over his chest in disapproval.
Apollo shrugs unapologetically. “His behavior was unacceptable. Whether he realized it or not, he was flirting with another man’s lover, and an intervention was called for.”
Icarus’ frown deepens, this time in confusion. “You think – oh, this is ridiculous. He was not flirting with me, Apollo!”
“His conversation with you clearly overstepped the bounds of a typical merchant-customer relationship.”
“I – I mean, yeah, we were talking about something else, but it wasn’t – you know what? I don’t have time for this right now. Just, he wasn’t, okay? Trust me on this.”
Apollo sighs heavily and shakes his head, helping himself to one of the almond cookies on display. The boy is naïve and innocent. Apollo determines not to hold it against Icarus if he can’t recognize flirting when he sees it. He’ll keep his eye on this would-be usurper, though.
—————————————————————-
Helios had no strong opinion on this Blake kid, prior to seeing him at the coffee party. He’s just another of Icarus’ boring mortal co-workers, though he is pretty easy to wind up, which makes him a little more fun than the unflappable old people at the flower shop, or the kids at the retail agora who are all too burned out to give a shit. Blake takes the bait every time – at least, he did once he realized that the gods were ‘friends’ and not ‘customers.’
So Helios didn’t mind Blake, particularly since Icarus didn’t seem to favor Blake’s company over the gods. HOWEVER. The kid has currently danced his way to Helios’ shit list, where he currently holds the top spot. And yeah, yeah, Helios knows he’ll find someone else to be pissed at soon enough, but just look at him!
Blake has been displaying a wholly unexpected set of dance moves, startling from either of Blake’s personality sets – the uptight suckup or the mouthy grouch. The kid in the bunny suit is shimmying and jamming and shaking his ass! Helios laughed at first, as delighted as everyone else, until he sees that Icarus is also watching attentively.
Icarus is staring at Blake with a rare smile on his face, which expands into a bout of full, genuine laughter when Blake does something interesting on the stage. He claps at the end of the songs. He cheers.
Helios scowls.
Now he turns a more critical eye to Blake’s dance moves. Yup, that kid is definitely working Icarus over. No question. It’s difficult to tell exactly where Blake’s looking, hidden as he is beneath the bunny mask and suit, but Helios is certain he’s pointed the suit in the direction of the cash registers more than anywhere else, and the mask is facing that way too.
There was a movie Helios watched with Icarus a while back – a female character accused a male of performing pelvic sorcery on her. Helios had adored the phrase at the time, and used it all the time, especially when talking about Apollo. But now the pelvic sorcery is being used to undermine him, and Helios does not like it.
“I Gotta Feelin” finishes and Blake performs some kind of hands-free cartwheel that nets him applause once again from the customers watching. See, that’s the other thing, there’s like twenty people in this ship right now. There’s no way Blake’s turning on the moves for twenty random assholes here to buy coffee. He doesn’t even like his job! So there’s no reason he’d be going this hard unless he’s trying to impress someone. And it’s apparently working: Icarus cheers and claps and beams.
Blake bows and retreats to the back to take a break. Helios stalks after him. Yeah, yeah, he knows – he can’t just kill rivals anymore. Zeus disapproves, and Helios tries to avoid getting on his bad side. And he can’t really retaliate at all, not really, or Icarus would be upset. Not that Helios even needs to check in on Zeus or Icarus, because Helios is totally mature about these things. Not like Apoop or Aphrodite or whatever. He’s completely chill about matters of romance.
But “completely chill” certainly doesn’t mean he has to roll over and let this kid do his pelvic sorcery on Icarus.
So he follows Blake to the back room, and finds the kid sitting there in the open doorway leading to the shipping entrance, smoking a cigarette. The bunny mask lies discarded on a box of coffee beans a few feet away.
Blake looks over at where Helios is approaching him. “Oh – uh, Helios, right? Hey, man, just so you know, you’re not supposed to be – ”
“I don’t care about the store rules and neither do you,” Helios cuts off the kid’s obligatory protest. Blake, who really doesn’t care about store rules, shrugs and takes another drag off his cigarette.
“But listen here, kiddo. I’m not angry, okay? I don’t do ‘angry.’ I’m not pissed and I’m not jealous! But you better knock off the pelvic sorcery out there.”
Blake stares at him, eyebrows lifting slightly, cigarette smoke drifting from the stick between his fingers. “Uh… what?”
“Out there,” Helios jerks his head in the direction of the stage, out in the main part of the shop. “All your little hip-wiggling?” He demonstrates; Blake’s eyes bulge. “I’m just telling you this for your own good. Icarus is spoken for. Aim your ass at someone else.”
Blake’s face does something complicated and he makes an interesting noise. “Oh-okay. No worries, man, I’ll, uh. I’ll aim my – oh, jeez. Icarus is totally safe from me.”
“Yeah, you do that. And don’t try to get cute; I’m keeping my eyes on you.”
He does the thing where he points at his eyes and then points at Blake. Blake makes that noise again and his shoulders tremble – good. Helios hopes he put a little fear in the kid. It’s not that he doesn’t like him, but Icarus belongs to Helios! And sometimes Apollo. But definitely not this pelvic sorcerer.
———————–
The god of love watches Helios strut out of the back room. He grins to himself; poor Blake! Luckily someone should be along momentarily to cheer him up. Assuming that gentleman can tear himself away from Apollo’s watchful eyes.
Eros waits patiently, hidden from view behind a fortress of stock boxes. It smells terrific in here. This is probably one of the more pleasant environments he’s carried out his duties in – he’s certainly worked in worse conditions many times before. Most of the time, really. This time, he’s sitting around reading nudie magazines while sipping stolen tea. The only way it could be improved is if Psyche or Gany or Hermes was here to watch the show with him – or if he was allowed to bring out his wings. He’s got them hidden at the moment, because it’s tough to discreetly blend in with mortals while he’s got a fifteen-foot wingspan knocking over all the fragile coffee mugs and stacks of cookies.
Of course, his other features make him stand out a little too, but humans find it easier to overlook these details. Eros mostly takes after his mom – a deceptively soft, round frame with a soft, round face. His head is topped with fluffy pink hair and his grin is wide and beaming and inviting. He did inherit his dad’s blood-red eyes, although on Eros, it mostly serves to highlight the cotton-candy hair. He’s seen at least one other human today with similarly-colored hair, and it makes him grin to see it.
Ahh – here comes his agent, now. Icarus, the sun idiots’ paramour, is coming in with two deep dishes of affogato. Vanilla gelato topped with a shot of hot espresso – affogato means ‘drowned’, because it’s ice cream ‘drowned’ in coffee. This makes it hilariously inappropriate for Icarus to be serving, though Eros doesn’t think he knows what ‘affogato’ means. It also happens to be Blake’s favorite dessert, though it’s usually too expensive for him to buy or discreetly steal.
“Yo, Icarus. Your boyfriends are fuckin’ weird,” Blake tells him without preamble, seeing his co-worker entering.
“Yeah, sorry. Their jealousy is over 9000 today,” Icarus says.
“One of em told me to quit with the pelvic sorcery I was apparently working on you. Sorry about that, man. I see you’re still fully dressed though, so I guess I didn’t make manage to make you tear your clothes off with all the sexy sex vibes I was throwing your way.” Blake sounds amused.
“Nope. I resisted somehow,” Icarus deadpans. He cuts Blake a look. “Though it was a near thing. You definitely were throwing off the sexy sex vibes today…”
“Yeah, well, there’s a pretty hot guy in the crowd today. I know you noticed him, right? He went up to the counter once.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I noticed.” Icarus is hiding a smile.
Blake tosses his cigarette into the ashtray with a sigh. “What are you doing back here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be serving the customers?”
“Technically, I am,” Icarus sets the dishes of affogato down on a nearby box, which serves as a table now.
Blake eyes them. “Uh – that’s – did someone forget those and leave em behind?”
“Nope. Wait just a minute before you start eating them, okay?”
Blake’s still asking questions but Icarus grins and exits back to the main shop. Blake stares suspiciously as the door shuts behind him. Eros grins wider and resists rubbing his hands together, but it’s so satisfying when a plan comes together!
Sure enough, a tall, handsome figure approaches from outside. He steps up to Blake and taps his shoulder.
“Excuse me. I was told that my order would be back here?”
“You – uhhh?”
Blake, who normally has a sharp or witty response for anyone, is reduced to a stammering mess of blushes on the spot as Tomás, the handsome man from the café, stands before him, smiling slightly. The bunny suit only adds to the poignancy, in Eros’ opinion.
Eros squees a little, making his little victory symbol with his hands – a heart, with his thumbs and forefingers. He’d love to stay and spy on them, drinking in the success and watching the hilarity and romance, but he senses he’s needed outside, immediately.
He teleports to the side of the building, where, as predicted, Apollo and Helios are both marching back with grimly threatening looks on their brows.
Eros appears immediately in front of them. “Hey guys! Well hello there! And what brings you to this corner of the shop when your bae is running the coffee machines on the other side?”
“You. I might have guessed,” Apollo snarls. “You’re behind every romantic mishap that has ever befallen anyone.”
“Ohh, c’mon, some people mishap themselves just fine,” Eros declares.
“You lead dicks astray!” Helios hisses.
“Not just dicks,” Eros replies loftily. Helios should know better than that. Eros shot his sisters pretty good before.
“You’re responsible for Icarus’ interest in that young man,” Apollo accuses.
“And for that guy doing the pelvic sorcery at him!”
“Yes, and – what? Helios, what ridiculous term is that?”
“It’s what that guy was doing with his dancing!”
“Helios, don’t be an idiot. Blake was hired to dance. The problem suitor was the customer who came back here just now.”
“What customer? Blake was the one dancing, and Icarus brought that dessert back for him…”
Eros watches this exchange with an increasingly smug smirk on his face.
“I see you two are exactly as ridiculous as you were a few thousand years ago, and exactly as clueless in matters of Luv. Same ol’ Helios and Apollo.”
The sun idiots turn to look at him, golden eyes narrowing and glowing in unison. “Explain yourself,” Apollo demands.
Eros drapes his arms over both of their shoulder, and brings out his wings for the heck of it, since they’re all outside and alone now. “Icarus had nothing to do with anything, my dear fellows, except to perform a few of the tasks for me on my little project.”
“But – the impudent customer,” Apollo protests, not ready to let go of his righteous anger yet. So predictable!
“And the pelvic sor-“
“Stop using that phrase,” Apollo snarls.
“You two are like balm for my soul,” Eros tells them, steering them around to face the still-open back door to the coffee shop. Very visible within the doorframe is Blake, still wearing half the bunny suit; and Tomás, the handsome customer that Blake had a crush on. They’re talking and eating their dessert. Blake’s face is aflame and he keeps, grinning and laughing and stammering. Tomás is smiling and watching him intently and gestures while he tells a story in his soft, mild voice.
“Yes, it was one of my subtler efforts,” Eros says. “Took a long time to set up, and it stood a pretty good chance of not working out. Lots of factors, you know. I had to get Tomás there to notice the event and decide to attend. Had to make sure Blake drew the short straw so he could dance today. Had to get Icarus to learn Blake’s ‘type,’ and his favorite coffee drink, had to make sure they were all in the right place at the right time…tricky stuff. Not like the old days, where I’d just shoot someone in the ass with my arrow, and let their dicks lead the way. And if I’d gotten that close to success, only for you two jealous clowns to wander through and wreck everything…”
Eros’ red eyes briefly intensify, flickering threateningly. He’s been told that it makes him look scarier than either Ares or Aphrodite; even scarier than both of them combined when he does this; mainly because everyone who sees it suddenly remembers Eros’ capacity for vengeful chaos when provoked. Or even when he’s just bored.
But then his grin is back, and his hands tighten around their shoulders in a totally-not-threatening way (except for the part where there is definitely a subtle warning in the hug).
“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Look at those two! There they are, flirting shamelessly. Hopelessly infatuated. And, ‘scuse the shop talk, but they’re totally horny for each other right now too. I have a little bet with myself – they’re gonna start sucking face about an hour after Blake gets off shift. Probably do more sucking later, but Blake’s actually shyer than you’d guess, so maybe – ”
“All right, that’s enough. We get it,” Apollo says sullenly.
“Well, actually, that’s a good segue. You don’t get it,” Eros tells them. “I like Icarus, so I’m gonna give you two a little free advice.”
Hard pass. Your advice always sucks. 0/10,” Helios sneers.
Shut up and listen,” Eros says, seriously for a change. And yeah, he’s a generation down from Apollo and three down from Helios the titan, but they both have learned a lot about his power over the centuries, because they both scowl furiously… but they’re listening.
“You’re on thin ice with him already. He doesn’t remember everything but he knows enough. He’s up to his ears in phobias, and he’s bitter as fuck and he’s trying to protect his heart. When you carry on like this, like he’s your possession and you’re just fighting over who gets to own him, it’s not going to do you any favors. He died for your love, and didn’t get it. Being catty over his customers and co-workers isn’t going to impress him.”
Eros’ squad had really been rooting for Icarus, back then. They’d all been heartbroken when Icarus had drowned. Anteros, Himeros, Pothos… but none more than Eros and Gany. Eros had been forced to watch the winged boy sink beneath the waves as water filled his lungs – sad enough on its own, but also a pretty symbolic death. Love gods had wings, after all.
Gany had also taken the blow pretty hard. He had still been quite new to Olympus at the time, and had wanted to see another mortal win the love of the gods. He’d been composing a song about it, to celebrate when Icarus finally made it. He’d been so utterly crushed at the heartbroken boy, dead in the ocean and left to toss about and be eaten by sharks. Hebe had discreetly gone to visit her illicit beau, Hercules, and directed him to where he could find the body, so that Icarus could at least be honored with dignity at a funeral.
This time, it’s entirely different. The whole situation is reversed. The sun idiots are constantly competing for Icarus’ attention, and Icarus himself has hardened his heart in self-protection. The kid doesn’t even like to let himself smile around them, in case it gives him away, and he’s genuinely distressed about it afterwards whenever he can’t stop himself from smiling, from blushing, from feeling.
An arrow would be a fast and easy way to force a solution… but Eros respects the Icarus who was willing to die for love. These two sun assholes are going to earn it this time.
Eros hugs Apollo and Helios again, tightly, and beams innocently at them, nodding towards the besotted Blake and Tomás. Foul-mouthed, cynical Blake, grinning like a dumbass and drinking in every story that Tomás can think of to impress him. Eros can’t wait to watch it pan out. “Just look at those two for a success story. Just spending time together and liking each other. Sometimes it’s just that easy.”
He lets them go. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later. I gotta go check in with Himeros and Anteros are staying on top of this, and then it’s back to Psyche for me. Haven’t seen that foxy lady in almost a week!”
Eros takes off before they can protest or start making excuses. Better to let them chew over the final word in the matter, and hope it sinks in. Besides, he really hasn’t seen Psyche in almost a week, so he wants to stop by to pick up a bouquet (curated by Persephone herself, of course) before he goes back.
——————
Helios and Apollo are sullen for nearly ten minutes afterwards, glaring at where Blake and Tomás are unquestionably loving each other’s company. They split up their conversation only when Blake realizes that he has to go back out and dance again. Tomás says something charming and dirty about Blake’s ass, and they both laugh and part ways.
“Guess we misread that one,” Helios sulks.
“And got a lecture, for our error,” Apollo agrees, sounding irritated as well.
Helios sighs. “I really thought it would be easier if the kid couldn’t remember the details.”
“Yes, I did too. But evidently he remembers enough.”
“I don’t know how we can convince him we’re not playing around this time,” Helios admits quietly.
There’s silence for a moment, while they both reflect on this.
“Well,” Apollo ventures finally, “I suppose we’ll just have to win him over by attrition of sorts. Just… keep wearing away at him with charm and interest and good intentions.”
Helios taps his chin. “Hmm. Yeah. ‘Persuasion is better than force…’”
“Right, like your disagreement with Boreas.”
“Fine. Well, we’ll see if it’s really ‘just that easy,’ like the Romantic Shithead seems to think.”
——–
They return back to the café, resolving to pay no mind to any customers and dancing rabbit co-workers. They’ll instead focus only on showering Icarus with affection and praise.
Icarus has no idea what happened, of course, but he can’t decide if this is fun and charming, or if it’s really, really annoying.