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It was Ninian's idea.
A suggestion made by Eliwood on her behalf, but Eliwood would never actually think of what he suggested as a date spot. Actually, Hector thought as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, it was probably Ninian trying to drop a hint at her rather oblivious boyfriend about where she wanted to go on a date. But Ninian knew Lounn well enough that there was probable merit to it.
The large building they were parked outside looked run down and out of place. The brickwork was worn and sun-bleached, the paint peeling from the sign boasting MERLINUS' TIMELESS TREASURES. How… cliche, he thought, furrowing his brows.
"Didn't you used to work for a Merlinus?" he asked, glancing side long to Lounn beside him.
Lounn was getting unbuckled and grabbing for her small bag before reaching for the door handle. She paused, tilting her head at Hector's question, before smiling at him. "That's like asking if I worked for Anna at one of the Emporiums. Who hasn't worked for Merlinus?"
"Riiiight."
"But no, I never worked here. It'll be an adventure for us both!" She opened the door, swinging her legs out to brace on the step up into Hector's truck. "C'mon, let's see what treasures await!"
Chuckling despite himself at her energy, Hector turned off the truck's engine. Maybe Ninian's idea was spot on after all.
"Why in blazes is it so cramped in here?"
Lounn poked her head around the corner, soft lilac braids swaying in the motion. "It's not cramped," she said. "You're just big." She smiled, sending a wink Hector's way that had heat creeping up his neck. It worked wonders at relaxing his shoulders, and he sidled carefully down an aisle of antiques. He even sucked in his gut to try and avoid breathing too hard on paper that would disintegrate at the lightest inconvenient touch.
Meanwhile, Lounn flit about without a care in the world, practically dancing along the squeaking hardwood floors. She ooh'd and aah'd at trinkets that surprised Hector — arrowheads here, rough cut crystal gems there, some old portrait that he couldn't tell if it was done with paint or crayons. Surprisingly what stood out the most to him were all the old bound books tucked into polished cedar bookshelves, haphazardly shoved in without a care to their size and shape.
Oh, and the weapons of course.
An obvious replica of Armads was tucked away in an obscure corner toward the back, where there was more breathing room because of the large furniture. Furniture that was probably coated in centuries of dust and full of bug carcasses and crumbs. Hector picked up the Armads — because why would the real fabled axe of legend be in a dusty antique store in the middle of Ostia? — and passed it between his hands.
"Oh, flex those muscles," Lounn whistled with a laugh, hop-skipping her way to Hector. She was quiet in her approach, which startled Hector into fumbling the replica and dropping it. This was the origin story for Hector's conspiracy theory as to why antique stores were not carpeted: because a careless jumble like that could break some timeless treasure, which then broke a customer's wallet.
Replica Armads had split into three pieces with a fine diamond dusting of particles coating the floor between the pieces.
It was all downhill from there.
The tarp in the back of Hector's truck got some use. With a huff, a grunt, and a groan, he dragged the bungee cord across the back of it and hooked it secure to both sides of the truck's bed, effectively strapping down every bit and bob beneath it and preventing the wind from lifting any of the treasures into the sky.
From the back window, opened for a cross breeze, Lounn watched. She only had her eyes peeking up and through the slats, watching Hector. Supervising him. Engraving the flex of his muscles and the sheen of sweat on his face into her memory. A little smile on her face was hidden against the truck seat, shoulders shaking at barely withheld giggles.
The panic from the shattered Armads had sent Hector to the ground in an attempt to salvage the problem. He unfortunately lunged so fast that he lost his balance, stumbling head first into a coffee table that now sported a nice crack down its resin-coated middle. Standing from that, obviously dizzy from the head smack, Hector had stumbled in an attempt to right himself — right into one of the dividers between sections of the antique store.
When the shopkeep finally hurried around the corner, hair askew around his face and eyes bulging from his sockets — "Oh, hey Merlinus! Long time no see!" Lounn had chirped — the damage was done. Like a domino effect, Hector trying to stand and fix whatever damage he caused escalated everything further. Several vases, many books, at least two other tables, the replica Armads, and a now-beheaded statue of a Fire Dragon had their new home in Hector's truckbed.
They were likely to break more, seeing as Ostia's roads were not great. Potholes… potholes everywhere.
Lounn schooled her face into something more of sympathy when Hector finally flung himself into the driver's seat. He turned several vents for the air conditioning on him, shoving his hand through sweaty hair and making it look handsomely messy. "Well," he muttered, a scowl etching across his face. "This is terrible."
"Oh, it isn't that bad." Lounn reached over, patting his knee. "Nothing a little glue and elbow grease won't fix."
"That's not what I mean." Hector shifted, pulling his wallet from his back jeans pocket. It was deflated, empty, void of all of the cash he had pulled from his bank account for this date. He was not the biggest fan of using cards to pay for things, and had not planned on blowing hundreds at Merlinus' Timeless Treasures.
Knowing this, Lounn nodded. "I can pay," she said brightly.
"What?" Hector tossed his wallet onto the dash.
"I can pay. For lunch!" Lounn smiled. "Well, within reason."
"Oh?" Though Hector's pride was on the line, he had learned from Eliwood and Lyn both that sometimes he didn't have to be the one who took care of everything. Lyn constantly kicking his ass at games and arm wrestling of all things might have even prepared him for this moment. "What's that, then?"
"No fancy Bernese cuisine."
"Well," Hector sighed. "That's a shame. I really like steak."