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“You want me to teach you how to flirt?”
“Yes. Did you not hear me? Should I speak louder?” Ayda asks, raising her voice slightly.
“No, love, I’m just surprised is all,” Garthy says from where they’re lounging in the Gold Gardens. “After all, it’s not every day your parent-slash-child asks you for love advice. Ah,” Garthy sighs, “they raise you, die, then reincarnate and grow up so fast.”
“Please,” Ayda says, and though her level tone does not betray her, Garthy can tell that she is practically begging, “it is imperative that I learn this skill as quickly as possible.”
“Why’s that?”
“Fig will be arriving in Leviathan shortly,” she responds, hands fidgeting with the scroll that she is holding.
“Fig? The little tiefling girl who runs around with the Bad Kids?” This might be more challenging than Garthy originally assumed; if they remember correctly, Fig was pretty charismatic. She was probably rather experienced at flirting.
“Yes, she is extremely attractive, and I would like to be in a relationship with her.”
“Okay, well, you don’t wanna come on too strong, yeah?” Garthy says, gesturing vaguely with the bottle of mead in between their fingers. “Compliments are nice and all, but you don’t want to overdo it.”
“Is it weird or strange to compliment someone a lot?” Ayda looks nervous, and Garthy suddenly wishes that they could find every person who had ever made her feel bad about herself and personally kick them in the groin.
“No, no, compliments are very kind and wonderful, but flirting is about the chase, all right? It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth, like a dance. If you spend the whole time complimenting the person it’s hard to sustain any…” Garthy gestures with the bottle again, trying to convey the delicate communicative interplay of romantic repartee. It doesn’t quite come across. “Tension.”
“Duly noted. How, specifically, does one build that ‘tension’?” Ayda does not physically do air quotes around the word, but it’s evident enough in her tone.
Garthy thinks about it for a moment. The art of flirting is such a context-dependent one, but they also want to give Ayda actionable instructions. Eventually, they say, “if you can find a way to challenge her somehow, engage her in a little banter or maybe a friendly competition or some such, that can help build that tension you’re looking for.”
“And what do you do once the tension has been established?”
“Well, then you can start getting a little more physical, maybe put a hand on her arm, y’know?” Garthy says, waving the bottle rather dramatically now.
“Got it. I should keep the compliments to a minimum, challenge her to a friendly competition, and then touch her on the arm,” Ayda nods, committing the steps to memory like she’s reading an instruction manual.
“That’s about it, yeah,” Garthy replies, taking a sip of the mead to punctuate the thought.
Just then, the tiefling in question walks into the room.
“Hey Ayda, you look really nice today,” Fig says, voice bright and sincere. Garthy clears their throat. “Oh, and um, hi Garthy.”
“Hello, Fig,” Ayda says, and then opens her mouth as though to say something else. She quickly shuts it again, and Garthy imagines that she had intended to say something effusively kind back to Fig. Garthy maybe should have specified that it’s fine to return compliments, now that they think of it, but they figure that it won’t hurt her to play it cool.
“I’m really excited to visit the library,” Fig continues, not deterred in the slightest by Ayda’s terse greeting. “I can’t believe you’ve worked on it for so long. It’s really amazing.”
“You know, if we were to race to the library, I would probably get there first,” Ayda says matter-of-factly, despite it being a complete non-sequitur. Garthy’s heart clenches at how uniquely Ayda her attempt at following their advice is, all sweet and awkward and heartfelt, and they are filled with renewed affection for the girl. Sure, it might not be the smoothest flirting they’ve ever seen, but Garthy thinks teaching Ayda coy smiles and playful tones would have been above their paygrade.
The only question, then, is whether the advice that Garthy did give her is working; they watch Fig to gauge her reaction to Ayda’s challenge, and they see her frown momentarily, confused. It only lasts an instant, however, before a beaming smile graces Fig’s lips.
“I bet you would, since you’ve got those dope-ass wings and everything—you’re probably, like, built for speed. It’d be cool as hell to see you in action, too.” Then, Fig coughs and looks away nervously, “I mean, everything you do is cool, so…”
Fig’s outpouring of compliments flusters Ayda so much that she accidentally singes the edges of the scroll in her hand.
“Oh,” Ayda says, jaw clenched against some emotion, “that is really nice to hear. Especially coming from you, because…” She stops mid-sentence as she seems to remember Garthy’s advice. “I mean, yes. I am very cool and would definitely beat you in a race.”
It is clearly causing her physical pain not to return the praise.
As Fig and Ayda trail awkwardly into silence, Garthy realizes that it is possible that they have miscalculated the situation entirely. When Ayda reaches out a hand to touch Fig’s arm despite the very-much-not-romantic tension in the room, Garthy realizes that it is possible that they do not know anything about romance at all, because their advice was kind of terrible.
“Fig, darling, would you excuse us for a moment?” Garthy asks, a hand placed lightly on Ayda’s shoulder to steer her into the next room.
“What’s wrong? I was about to touch Fig on the arm.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s why I pulled you out,” Garthy says, scrubbing their palm against their forehead. “Look, forget everything I told you, all right?”
“I do not understand. I followed your advice to the letter,” Ayda frowns, brow furrowed.
“No, lovey, you did great, okay?” Garthy reassures her. “I just don’t think my advice will help you all that much. Listen,” they nod at Fig, who seems to have difficulty sitting still as she waits for Garthy and Ayda’s return. Her eyes keep not-so-surreptitiously sliding over to Ayda every couple of seconds before quickly glancing elsewhere. “I think your best bet is to tell Fig how you feel, honest and straightforward-like.”
Ayda frowns. “Garthy, I would never question the validity of your wisdom, but I do not see how that is different to my behavior in any of my interactions with Fig, save for just now.”
“Yeah, love, that’s sort of the point,” Garthy says. “Fig has said about fifty words to you, and nearly all of them have been about how wonderful you are. I think the rest might have just been prepositions.” They squeeze Ayda’s shoulder. “Frankly, I don’t think there’s anything that will make that girl like you more than you just being yourself.”
“Oh,” Ayda says. “That is…very relieving to hear.” She nods once, determined, and strides back into the room with Fig.
“Fig,” Garthy hears her say, “I think you are incredible in every conceivable way. I would like it very much if you would hold my hand as we walk to the library.”
Garthy sees a face-splitting grin form on Fig’s face as she reaches her hand toward Ayda. Fingers intertwined, the pair leave the Gold Garden and head toward the library.
“Well then,” Garthy says to themselves, “let’s see if Ayda’s strategy works on the celestial down at the bar.”