Work Text:
Legendary Linnet
Linnet:
In books, friendships are easy. Everyone always knows what to say. I never know what to say. So, I don’t say anything. This bothers some people. It did not appear to bother the Mage Healer Emily overmuch. This was a relief.
Pine Grove was the sort of place I’d like to retire to: remote. It was not the sort of place that it was fun to travel back to Foxboro from with half-healed injuries. Train journeys and deep lacerations are uncomfortable, no matter how many healing spells are holding you together.
The most annoying part was that I was not permitted to carry my own baggage. Sadly, since most of Dah’lil’s team had left a week before, I had to deal with porters. Thank goodness for Emily. She had the patience to explain to everyone exactly where everything needed to go.
I missed Dah’lil. It had taken a near-death experience to bring us together, and we’d only had two weeks before work pried us apart again. And I’d slept for most of those two weeks.
So, I was in a foul mood when the train conductor approached the compartment I shared with my grizzly bear familiar Baby, Dah’lil’s team healer Emily, and her adorable marmoset familiar Dax. Emily and Dax had gone to the dining car to acquire sandwiches.
“Pardon me, sir?” I stared at them. “Ma’am?” I kept staring. “Magus?”
“Agent,” I said. I wasn’t in uniform, because I was nowhere near ready for duty, but I had my MISD badge in my pocket. I flashed it.
“Agent. I don’t mean to be rude, but some of the other passengers have complained about your familiar…”
“The familiar that has not left my side.”
“Well, it-“
“She,” I corrected.
“She’s very alarming, so, ah…”
I knew what they were about to ask, and I attempted to circumvent the question. “No.”
They plowed on, ignoring my response. “We think she would be more comfortable in the baggage car.”
“No,” I said again. “I booked an entire compartment for a reason.”
“Er, company policy is that larger familiars are to travel in the baggage car.”
“No it isn’t.” Baby and I had faced this issue before, and I’d looked it up. This was not, in fact, company policy for this particular railroad.
“It’s just that the other passengers… And she is, well, a bear…”
Baby gave an angry huff beside me, and the conductor paled a little but did not leave.
“I am an MISD agent recently injured in the line of duty. My familiar has not let me out of her sight since then, and if you attempt to force her into the baggage car it will not end well.”
I was well and truly sick of this conversation. The conductor stammered out some half-apology and left. I went back to my novel.
Emily returned shortly thereafter with sandwiches for all.
**
I like the color pink, and I like the MISD building. I may like the color pink BECAUSE I like the MISD building. It felt strange to be walking in the doors out of uniform. No one questioned me, because everyone knows Baby.
I went straight to Admin. Alison was at the desk. She used to be a field agent until injuries forced her into a desk job. Fortunately, she enjoyed organizing things even more than knocking heads together.
She smiles even less frequently than I do, yet she smiled a little when I approached her. “Linnet. Glad you’re not dead. What do you need?”
I rattled off a list of forms. She had several of them set aside for me already. “…And 692-A,” I finished. I’d promised Dah’lil that I’d fill out the Agents-Entering-A-Romantic-Relationship form, and I intended to keep my word.
She looked up. “692-A. You.”
“Yes.”
She gave me an approving nod. “Wait here.” She left and returned a moment later with 692-A. She handed me my stack of forms without further comment and I placed them in my satchel.
I almost made it out of the building without talking to anybody. Sadly, I was accosted by Agent Blanks in the lobby, his blonde hair sticking out in all directions.
“Linnet! I’m so glad I ran into you! I was going to go to your house, but then I’m not sure where you live.” I waited for him to get to the point. “See, I’m running this seminar for junior agents about combat magic at range, starting next week, and since you’re basically the best we have in that area, I was really hoping you would help.”
“I won’t be cleared for duty for at least another month,” I told him.
“Not for field duty, but teaching you could do, right? That’s not very strenuous.”
“I’ve never taught.”
“I’ll be doing most of the work, I promise. What I’d really like you to do is demonstrate what makes you so effective. Help me teach these idiots how to survive. They have zero experience and too much confidence.”
“No. You don’t need my help.” Agent Blanks was a perfectly decent combat mage and good with people.
“Yes, I do. You’re a legend. They’ll listen to what you say, just because it’s you that’s saying it. Help me save their lives. Please.”
I sighed. I could share tips and tricks. “Fine.” His expression brightened and he opened his mouth to say something. “IF you do all the paperwork.”
“Oh, absolutely! I pulled the forms already: I just need to fill them out! There’s a couple of things you’ll have to sign. Will you be here, or…?”
“No.” I gave him my address.
I left before he could thank me. I needed a nap.
**
I rent a small house in a suburb of Foxboro, even though I am rarely there. I prefer the privacy of an overpriced rental to the clatter of humanity (and the terrible food) of the MISD barracks. I can afford a little privacy on the salary of a senior agent. I’d rented the place furnished. The only furniture that belongs to me is four bookshelves. There were just too many books to fit on the ones provided.
My therapist lives nearby and there’s a nice pub down the street where we like to meet.
“I told him,” I said to her over plates of fish and chips.
“And?” Kate prodded.
“You were right. I should have said something years ago.”
“So, opening up to people…”
“Isn’t always as bad as I think it will be,” I admitted. “Doesn’t mean it’s fun.”
“That is true. Tell me about these monster things.”
I related the entire mission in Pine Grove.
“Ok, those are the facts. Tell me how you feel about it.”
I sighed. After so many years, I couldn’t slide a single thing past Kate. “It wasn’t fun. Ambushes are not fun. A twenty-four hour running battle against magical constructs isn’t fun. Nearly dying…”
“…Is not fun,” Kate finished my sentence.
“Exactly. But…finally kissing Dah’lil? It feels like it was worth it.”
She nodded and took a sip of her cider. “Any symptoms I should know about?”
“Oddly, no. I expected claw monster nightmares, but I haven’t had a single one. I am worried about Baby, though. She’s been extra clingy.” My familiar’s head was in my lap at that very moment. I slipped her a piece of fish.
“That’s natural,” said Kate.
“I think she’s had nightmares.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Is there such a thing as a familiar therapist?”
“I wish. She may relax now that you’re back in Foxboro. Would she like the rest of my fish?”
“Yes. Always.” Baby would eat just about anything, as bears are omnivorous, but she especially enjoyed the battered fish from this particular pub. She happily devoured Kate’s fish.
“I agreed to help teach a seminar yesterday,” I said halfway through my chips. “Why did I do that?”
“Because underneath your misanthropic shell you’re a really nice person. What’s it about?”
“Combat magic.”
She nodded. “I would ask you to help out with that seminar, too. Who talked you into it?”
“Blanks.”
She shook her head. “Don’t know them personally.”
“He’s all right,” I said. Blanks had never asked me any stupid questions, but then we’d only met a few times. “Friendly.”
“Do you want to be his friend?”
I shrugged. “We’ll see.” I didn’t hold out any particular hope. I finished my chips.
**
Blanks was on my doorstep when I returned from lunch/therapy. I immediately regretted giving him my address.
“Hi!” he said. He held up a sheaf of papers. “Ready for your signature.”
I didn’t have a pen on me, so I unlocked my door and said, “Come in.”
It’s neat inside. I have a maid come in weekly, even when I’m not there.
I signed the forms on the kitchen table.
“Is Linnet your only name?” asked Blanks as he watched me sign.
Stupid question number one. That did not bode well. “Yes.”
“So, how do you want to do this? Do you want to talk to them in the classroom, or…”
“Training ground.” A classroom was good for theory, but the advice I had to give was all practical.
Blanks nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I’m holding most of this thing. I’m going to do some introductions and ice-breakers on the first day in the morning, then training ground after lunch. Do you want to be there for the introductions?”
“No.” I didn’t need to know their names. I needed to know their abilities.
**
The training ground and the shooting range at the MISD headquarters feel more like home than my house. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled like sweat and dust and faintly of charred wood from where someone had set a target on fire recently. I opened my eyes.
I wasn’t here for myself. I was here for the eight junior agents standing in a line to my left. The oldest one couldn’t be more than twenty. Their uniforms were brand new and their buttons were shiny. To my right, twenty paces away, was a line of eight wooden, circular targets. Blanks and I stood to the side, out of the line of fire. Well, he stood. I sat on a stool pilfered from someone’s office.
“This is Agent Linnet,” Blanks told his class, gesturing to me.
“THAT’S the one-person army?” muttered one of the junior agents to their neighbor, who tittered. I ignored them.
Baby looks much more intimidating than I do. That’s simply a fact. I’m not tall or broad or covered in visible scars. I’m slender and pale, with long ginger hair and sometimes painted nails (currently green).
I pointed to the targets across from the junior agents. “Show me your best offensive spell,” I said.
They blinked in surprise for a moment, probably expecting me to make a pointless speech, then fumbled for their grimoires. A ragged line of spells slammed into the targets: ice, fire, wind, light. Too slow, all of them. At least most hit the targets.
“If you were fighting a rogue mage, you would all be dead now,” I informed them.
“No fair! You didn’t give us any warning!” shouted one of them. Tall, blonde, classically good looking, probably assigned male at birth.
I ignored them. Blanks didn’t.
“A rogue mage won’t give you any warning either,” Blanks pointed out. “This is the training yard, not the schoolyard. We’re not playing games. We’re teaching you how to live through an actual combat situation.”
I gave Blanks a half smile. They grinned back at me. They understood where I was coming from, and they could articulate it. This seminar might succeed.
“Speed,” I said. I flipped open my grimoire and went down the line of targets, hitting each one dead center with a different spell. It took about twelve seconds. “Is key.”
I saw some jaws drop open. The mouthy one swore. Blanks extinguished the two targets I’d hit with fire spells.
“Knock the targets over when I say go,” I told the class. “Go.”
I waited two seconds. Three seconds. Not a single one had found the right page in their grimoire. Four seconds. Five seconds. “Stop,” I called out. Not a single mage had cast a spell. “You’re dead. Try again.”
This time, one mage got a spell off in the time I allotted, a dark-skinned agent with long braided black hair and a wolverine familiar.
I pointed. “You. What did you do differently?”
“I found the spell last time, but I didn’t have time to cast it. I kept my finger on the page because I thought you’d ask us to do it again.” They lifted their chin defiantly, likely expecting me to scold them for cheating.
“Smart,” I said. The rest of the class grumbled.
“Any questions?” Blanks asked the junior mages.
The junior agent nearest to me raised their hand, a short, curvy, tan-skinned agent with glasses. Blanks pointed at them to speak. “You weren’t even looking at your grimoire. I was watching. Is that why you can cast so quickly? You just know where everything is?”
A good question. “Yes. I’ve marked the pages with raised text and various textures so I can tell what I’m casting even if I’ve lost track of what page I’m on.”
“What’s on page three of your grimoire?” Blanks asked the questioner.
“Uhhh…” They started to open their spellbook.
“Without looking,” Blanks instructed.
“A…barrier spell?” They checked. “Oh, no, a wind spell.”
“What’s on your page three?” demanded the handsome mouthy mage.
“Lightning,” I responded, flipping to page three and calling down lightning on the target in front of that mage.
“Fireball,” said Blanks, flipping to his page three and casting a ball of fire at the same target. He wasn’t as quick as me, but it was a respectable speed.
**
The next day, Blanks and I quizzed the junior agents about what spells were where in their grimoires. Well, mostly that was Blanks.
“What’s on your page five?” he asked the handsome mouthy mage.
“Ice wall,” they said. They checked. “Sard it. That’s on page six.”
Blanks pointed to the dark skinned agent with the wolverine familiar. “What’s on your page ten?”
“Viktoire’s Third Fireball variation,” they answered without hesitation. They checked, and they were correct.
“Good,” Blanks praised them. “What’s on the last page?”
“Healing spell,” answered the junior agent, correct again.
“That’s a good spell to have,” said Blanks. He raised his voice to address the entire class. “If any of you DON’T have a healing spell in your grimoire, I suggest you add it.”
“Do you have a healing spell in your grimoire?” the short curvy agent asked me.
“Three. Saved my life more than once,” I answered. Most recently, I’d managed to put my spleen back together after torching that last claw monster, directly before passing out. If I hadn’t, I would have bled out before Dah’lil’s team arrived. The spleen is a very vascular organ.
We set the targets at forty feet and ran them through speed drills. Some of them managed to get spells off in the time I gave them occasionally, though their accuracy suffered. The mage with the wolverine familiar succeeded more frequently than the others.
I pointed at them. “You. Why are you better today?”
“My name’s not You,” they snapped. Their wolverine growled and glowered at me, which Baby did not like at all. I laid my hand on her shoulder.
Fair enough. If that bothered the agent, I wouldn’t continue to do it. “What is your name, and what are your pronouns?”
They blinked. They probably hadn’t expected me to respect their preferences. A lot of teachers wouldn’t. “Clara Zane. Um. She/her. This is Snuggles.” She pointed at her wolverine familiar.
I nodded. “Agent Zane, why are you better today?”
“I practiced,” she said. “I thought of a spell in my grimoire, then tried to find it without looking. A lot.”
“Good,” I said. “Keep doing that. I do that every day.”
Teaching was more exhausting than I thought, even though I didn’t do much more than sit and bark orders. When we stopped for a break, I pulled Blanks to the side. “I’m going home. I’m not coming tomorrow.”
“Whatever you need,” said Blanks, face open and concerned. “Are you doing ok? Should we go grab a healer?”
“No. Just need rest.”
“Ok. You don’t have to come back for the rest of this thing if you don’t feel up to it. You’ve been a huge help already, and that’s really all I needed.”
“We’ll see.” To tell the truth, I wanted to come back. I enjoyed watching the junior agents get better. I enjoyed telling them how to survive. It would depend on what my body needed.
I left, my fresh scars aching too badly to pay much attention to my surroundings. I should have gone home to rest much earlier.
“Linnet?” said the most beautiful voice in the world.
I looked up to find Dah’lil Maksohm, my boyfriend, standing in the hallway holding a sheaf of paperwork. My day brightened considerably.
I greeted Dah’lil with an embrace and a kiss. His arms were strong and warm. We were alone in the hallway, so I indulged in the kissing more than I would have if witnesses were present.
“What are you doing here? I KNOW you’re not cleared for duty,” he said, breaking off the kiss after a few glorious moments.
“Helping Blanks teach a seminar on combat magic.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You should be in bed with a cup of tea, reading mystery novels.”
“That’s where I’m going now.”
“I’m going to get Emily, and we’re going to make sure that’s where you end up.”
I loved this man so much that I couldn’t put it into words. I felt cared for in a way that hadn’t happened since my childhood at Sister Beryl’s Foundling Home. “Ok,” I said. I couldn’t seem to stop grinning.
Dah’lil’s team had invaded a conference room. Paperwork spread out before them on the table.
The healer Emily fixed me with that glare that only healers and caretakers of children have. “You are on medical leave. Go home,” she said.
“…Unless you want to help us write up reports,” said Chi Franklocke. “In which case, pull up a chair.”
Emily glared at her teammate, but it was a joke.
Dah’lil deposited his stack of papers in the center of the table and the Void Mage’s familiar groaned.
“Emily, you’re with me,” Dah’lil said. “We’re making sure Linnet gets home and STAYS there. And then we’re picking pastries up on the way back.”
They made me take a cab rather than the streetcar. I didn’t mind. I got to sit next to Dah’lil, our fingers interlaced.
“Do you have plans tomorrow evening?” I asked Dah’lil.
“No.”
“Dinner?”
“Sure. Unless something else goes horribly wrong.”
We both glanced at the healer to see if she would allow this. Emily pursed her lips. “If you take it easy for the rest of today and tomorrow, you can probably do that. Do NOT undo my hard work.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said.
Emily was not happy to learn that my cupboards were mostly bare.
“What do you EAT?” she demanded.
“There’s a pub down the street,” I explained. “I’m not home much. I don’t want food to spoil while I’m on a mission.”
“I’m going grocery shopping for you, and then I am making you scones,” she decided.
“You’re trying to get out of doing paperwork,” Dah’lil said to her with a smile.
“No, I’m doing my job AND I’m trying to get out of paperwork.”
“Fair,” Dah’lil admitted. “Carry on.”
I liked scones. I handed Emily some money and gave her directions to the nearest market.
“Any food allergies? Preferences?”
I shrugged. “No onions. No sardines.”
The healer set off. Dah’lil heated water for tea as we hashed out details for tomorrow’s dinner. Finally, I was well enough for an actual date, rather than a hazy cycle of broth, talking, and napping while he held my hand.
I settled onto the chez in the library (originally a guest bedroom) with an afghan on my lap and a favorite mystery novel in my hands. Dah’lil delivered my cup of tea with a kiss to my forehead, then he went back to work.
I delved into my cozy mystery with a smile. My face hurt, in fact, from smiling so much.
Emily returned around the time I ran out of tea. I went to my kitchen to make more while she pulled together the ingredients for scones. She plucked the cup out of my hands and pointed to the kitchen table.
“Sit,” she instructed. I sat. She made me a second cup of tea and brought it over.
She asked me to tell her where to put all the things she’d bought (too many things, honestly) away. Answering her questions flowed so naturally that when she asked me where I’m from, I answered.
“Small town in Turransky,” I said. “You?”
“Corcoran. Where should I put this treacle?”
I wasn’t sure what I would ever do with treacle. “With the sugar, I suppose. Corcoran.” I shuddered. “Ugh.”
She put the treacle in the cupboard with the sugar and turned around, fixing me with a perplexed look. “I keep getting that reaction from people. Why?”
“Their council is a nightmare to deal with.”
She nodded. “That is true. You sound like you’ve dealt with them.”
“Rogue mage. Last year. He must have been related to someone on the council, because they interfered with EVERYTHING.”
An odd look came over her face. “What was his name?”
I tried to remember. “It started with D?”
“Was it Derek, by any chance?”
“Sounds right.”
“When we were apprentices, he legitimately tried to kill Rena and Bannen. Where is he now?”
“Jail.”
“Good. Tell me everything.”
So, as she pulled together the dough, I told her what I remembered. It wasn’t a particularly remarkable mission. Derek wasn’t a particularly remarkable mage.
Emily put the scones in the oven to bake, then sat at the table with me. “How are you doing?”
“Recovering. You’re a good healer.”
“Thanks. But I also mean…” She pointed at her head.
“Are you a therapist now, too?”
“Humor me, please.”
“Better than expected. No claw monster nightmares.”
“Really?” She sounded dubious.
“Really. If they start, I will tell my therapist immediately.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed with relief. “You’ve already got a therapist. I thought you’d be like Chi and Bannen and we’d have to physically drag you to a mental health professional.”
“I’ve had a therapist since I was nine. The claw monsters…are not the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
She didn’t ask. I would not have told her. “I’m sorry that something worse than that has happened to you.”
Emily’s scones turned out to be delicious.
**
My wardrobe is quite limited outside of MISD uniforms. I own one nice suit. I put it on, then took it off. It was too formal. I surveyed my paltry selection of clothing and resolved to buy at least one more waistcoat and some shoes that weren’t MISD issue. I wound up wearing a dark green coat over a royal blue waistcoat and brown slacks. It would have to do.
Dah’lil and I met at Cynthia’s Café, a small establishment in the art district, which isn’t too far from Headquarters. We’d been to this café before, as friends. They had incredible cakes, and they were a very familiar-friendly restaurant.
Dah’lil apparently had the same sartorial problem that I did: he was wearing MISD issued shoes as well. His coat was burgundy, and he looked stunning.
“You look dapper,” he said when he saw me.
I think I blushed. “You, too.”
We sat inside, by the huge window that looked into the street. I felt awkward, like all my limbs were out of place, like I’d never met him before and didn’t know what to say.
Dah’lil picked up the menu. “Oh, this baked pasta dish is new.”
I consulted my own menu. It was. It looked delicious. We both ordered it.
“So, ah…” began Dah’lil. “You’re teaching a seminar?”
“Blanks is doing the work.” Work. Good. Yes. Safe topic. “I’m just backup advice.”
Dah’lil nodded. “Makes sense. Your reputation is legendary. If those junior agents are smart, they’ll listen to you in a way that they might not listen to Blanks.”
“Blanks is a good combat mage.”
“That is true, but they don’t call him the one-person army.”
“I still don’t get why people call me that.”
Dah’lil lifted an eyebrow. “Sira. When your team went down and you pretty much defeated an entire horde of zombies by yourself, then carried your wounded team members out of there.”
“That was years ago.” Nine and a half, to be exact. “And technically Baby carried them.”
“Semantics. They use that in the teaching material for junior agents, you know.”
“They do?”
“They do.”
Our food arrived. We ate. “Oh, Deities, this cheese!” moaned Dah’lil.
“I don’t know what it is, but I want more,” I agreed.
If the giant mechanical hornets hadn’t shown up, we would have eaten every crumb and licked the plates clean.
Halfway through our meal, something crashed into the window, sending spiderwebbed cracks in all directions from the point of impact.
At first, I thought it was a bird, but then I got a good look at it as it flopped on the ground in Cynthia’s outdoor seating area, trying to right itself. The thing was a mechanical construct animated by magic, roughly the size of a pigeon, and modeled after the look of a hornet.
“Weird,” said Dah’lil.
A second construct hit the window, and it shattered. Glass sprayed the interior of the café. The construct crashed into our table. We got a good look at thin copper wings sparkling with magic and a sharp stinger. It flopped upright, then darted toward another patron. Baby batted it out of the air and crushed it.
Outside, people started to scream. I looked through the destroyed window to see a swarm of the buzzing constructs hurtling towards us and a crowd of innocent bystanders beginning to panic.
“Waesucks,” said Dah’lil, casting a shield around the café. Several constructs bounced off of it. “Stay calm and get down!” he instructed the café’s staff and other patrons.
Cynthia herself, a young woman with dark skin and incredible culinary skills, came out from behind the counter. “The kitchen doesn’t have windows. Everyone should be safe there!”
“Good idea!” said Dah’lil. He helped Cynthia usher everyone toward the kitchen.
A young woman I recognized emerged from the kitchen with a wolverine familiar by her side. Her sleeves were rolled up and she wiped flour off her hands onto an apron.
I nodded at her. “Agent Zane.”
“Agent Linnet. What’s going on?”
“Good question.”
I never leave my house without my grimoire because of this type of situation. I cast a personal shield on myself and stepped through Dah’lil’s shield and the shattered window. Baby hopped through behind me. Agent Zane and Snuggles stepped through moments after. She had her grimoire in hand as well. Good.
Many of the hornet swarm swooped at the fleeing pedestrians. I didn’t want to use a spell which could cause collateral damage or more panic, so rather than lightning or fire I summoned thin beams of pure force, sniping hornets out of the sky. There had to be at least two dozen of them.
Agent Zane sent up a magical flare which served as a signal for help. A bright blue M hovered above the rooftops. Good thinking. Then, following my lead, she used a similar spell to the one that I was using to destroy hornets.
Cynthia’s Café was clearly the hornets’ target. They dive-bombed the building and chased pedestrians away from it.
Agent Clara Zane and I stood back to back in front of the shattered window, fighting off the constructs. Agent Zane did well for herself, hitting the small moving targets she aimed for seven times out of ten. Our familiars were not happy to be facing a buzzing, flying enemy, but they did succeed in bringing down a few.
Once we’d whittled the swarm down to two, I captured the last of them in an immobilization spell shaped like a pink net, intending to hand them over to the police who were just now arriving on scene. Fortunately, one of the detectives was a mage and I could just transfer control of the spell to her. The magical net’s color changed from pink to green.
“Good job, Agent Zane,” I said. “Thank you for watching my back.”
“Any time,” she said, grinning.
The threat neutralized, Cynthia dashed out of her café. “Clara! Are you ok?” she cried, grabbing Agent Zane in a hug. Seeing them together, I spotted a clear family resemblance. Sisters or cousins, I would guess.
“I’m fine, Cyn,” said Agent Zane. “Are you ok?”
Cynthia sniffled, eyes tearing up. “Physically.”
Dah’lil’s shield on the café dropped, and he walked outside.
“Everyone all right?” I asked him
“A few scratches from the window shattering and they’re shaken up. I think they’ll be all right,” he told me.
Cynthia turned to me and my boyfriend. “Thank you, agents. I’m…not sure what would’ve happened if you weren’t… I’m awfully sorry about your meal, and all of this, and –“
Dah’lil took her hands and spoke to her in a calm voice. “Don’t worry about it. We’re glad we could help. We’ll definitely be back once this is cleaned up, because you have some of the best food in the city.”
The police took statements from everyone.
“Now what?” Dah’lil asked me once he’d given the police his side of the story. “Moonlit stroll?”
I shrugged.
Cynthia came over to us with an enormous chocolate cake in her hands. “I wanted to say thank you in a more tangible way. Please, take this.”
Dah’lil’s face lit up like a kid being given a new toy. He took the cake from her. “Thank YOU. This is exactly why we came to your café in the first place,” he confided. It made her smile.
“Cake and tea at my place?” I suggested to Dah’lil.
“Sounds perfect,” he said.
We took our thank-you cake back to my house and served ourselves enormous slices. We made tea to go along with it.
“Eventually, I hope to have a date with you that does not involve a perilous situation,” said Dah’lil, helping himself to a second slice.
“Ideally. Though, since this perilous situation involved both you and free cake, I would gladly repeat it. Daily.”
“Honestly? Same here.”
We kissed. It tasted like chocolate.