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The bell above the door chimed a bright, brassy greeting as Terzo held the heavy glass handle open.
He stepped aside with a theatrical half-bow, a charming smile playing on his lips. "After you, la mia cara," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk.
Today, he had traded his elaborate robes for his sharp black-and-white suit, his face clean of the iconic papal paint, looking every bit the dashing gentleman for their afternoon out.
Lucy stepped inside, her heart-shaped earrings swinging with every skip in her step.
The diner was a retro dream: neon pink tubing lined the ceiling, chrome accents sparkled under the warm lights, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla and toasted buns.
Terzo guided her to a plush, strawberry-colored booth, sliding onto the vinyl seat across from her.
As they opened their menus, the 2000s-style "sparkle" of the diner seemed to catch in Lucy's eyes.
She pointed a manicured finger at a vibrant illustration on the back page. "Oh, Terzo, look! The 'Strawberry Supreme'!"
Terzo closed his menu with a decisive snap, his eyes twinkling.
"If it brings that much light to your face, amore, then it is the only choice. One shared masterpiece, please," he told the waitress.
A heart-shaped screen transition later, the table was no longer empty.
Between them sat a towering milkshake that could only be described as architectural.
It was a mountain of pink dairy, crowned with a cloud of whipped cream so thick it looked like a fluffy dream.
Two striped straws leaned toward each of them, beckoning.
The rest of the diner seemed to fade into a soft, out-of-focus blur.
Lucy leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she gazed lovingly at Terzo.
He mirrored her, his usual flair for the dramatic replaced by a tender, quiet warmth.
"You look particularly radiant today, my love," Terzo whispered.
He began to lean in, his eyes fluttering shut as he moved toward her for the kiss they'd been building toward all afternoon.
Suddenly, the air between them began to hum.
A tiny, high-pitched ping echoed through the booth, followed by a blinding flash of hot pink light that smelled like bubblegum and magic.
Lucy blinked, spots dancing in her vision. When the light cleared, the seat across from her was empty.
"Down here, bellissima!" a tiny, squeaky voice cried out.
Lucy looked down at the table.
Standing right next to the base of the milkshake was a four-inch-tall Terzo.
The black-and-white suit was gone; in its place, he was dressed in his full, regal papal cassock and mitre, his face now adorned with his signature skeletal paint.
He looked exactly like a living, breathing doll—a miniature king of the ministry.
He looked up at her, his tiny hands resting on his hips.
Even at his new height, he managed to strike a pose that was pure, unadulterated drama.
"It appears," he squeaked, his voice like a violin on fast-forward, "that the universe decided our date needed a bit more... theatricality!"
Lucy gasped, her heart doing a little flip-flop in her chest as the pink spots in her vision cleared.
Instead of panic, a wave of pure, sugary affection washed over her.
He was so tiny, so very cute, and—with his little painted face looking up at her—absolutely precious.
"Terzo!" she squeaked, her voice matching the high-energy vibe of the diner. "You're... you're a little pocket-prince!"
She didn't hesitate.
Lucy slowly lowered her hand to the tabletop, palm flat.
Terzo didn't miss a beat; he hiked up his heavy cassock with a flourish of his tiny gloved hands and scrambled onto her palm.
He felt as light as a handful of macarons as she carefully lifted him up to her eye level, exactly like a prized treasure.
As she brought him close to her face, the world seemed to burst into a 2000s-style montage.
Bright pink hearts shimmered into existence around them, popping in the air like bubbles. Terzo leaned back against her fingers, crossing his arms with a look of smug, regal contentment.
He might be four inches tall, but looking into Lucy's eyes from this close made him feel like he owned the entire world.
"I believe," Terzo chirped, patting her thumb affectionately, "that this date just became infinitely more 'exclusive'."
Lucy giggled, the sound bright and bubbly. She wasn't about to let anyone else see her miniature papa.
She quickly reached into her pink purse, fished out a generous tip, and slid it onto the table for the waitress.
Then, with a stylish flourish, she pulled her heart-shaped sunglasses from her bag and slid them onto the bridge of her nose.
Behind the tinted lenses, her eyes sparkled with mischief and affection.
With a final, protective glance around the diner, she tucked her hand close to her heart and headed for the door.
The "Strawberry Supreme" remained on the table, but Lucy was already taking the best part of the date home with her.