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Relocating to the opposite side of the country had never been part of Cid's plans, but after the last disagreement with his boss — which included threats of termination if Cid refused to lie to their clients — he'd had enough of corrupt business in the big city.
"I'll save you the trouble; I quit," he had said as he tossed his company badge on the desk and walked out before anyone could pick their jaws up off the floor.
Some would call the decision irresponsible and impulsive, but the truth is that it was long overdue. For everyone who admonished him for "ripping poor Midadol away from everything she had ever known" clearly knew nothing about the girl. Mid was beyond excited for somewhere new where she could spread her wings without the confines of private school suffocating her. In hindsight, his attempt to give her access to the best education was misplaced. Mid needed a place where she could be free, to discover and experiment and find her own way in life. And that's just where they were headed.
Much smaller than the metropolis of Stonhyrr, the city of Rosaria was renowned for its progressive policies that focused on not only innovation but also preservation. A perfect place for him to finally strike out on his own and launch his independent business. With decades of experience under his belt, strong intuition, and firm morals, Cid developed a positive reputation as a contract negotiator and that got him a solid network in the industry.
Technical skills can be taught, but earning people's trust was a skill you either had or you didn't. In Cid's case, he lucked out and found himself in possession of such skills. Even in his maddest ideas, Cid managed to establish contracts that satisfied all involved parties. Such that no few clients decided to sever ties with his former employer and strike out alongside him.
Some of Cid's best plans are mad, including this one. Within a few weeks, he bought a house, rented an office downtown, signed Mid up for her new school, and off they went to start their new lives. It's been three months since and he hasn't looked back once.
Though he will say it's a bit lonely bein' in a new place even if he didn't exactly have friends back in the Stonhyrr. People gravitated towards him at work, but he knew better than to let any of them get close. A lesson learned the hard way unfortunately. Still, he does miss some friendly office banter. These days, the only social engagement he gets is talking business with clients and suppliers or the parents of Mid's classmates trying to subtly — and badly, for that matter — figure out his and Mid's story. Word travels fast in a small city like Rosaria, and their arrival certainly didn't go amiss.
The intentional infrastructure of the modest city makes it conveniently walkable, unlike the unforgiving streets of Stonhyrr. These days the only time he drags the car out is for trips out of town, and that's been rare. And while Mid is old enough to walk herself to school at twelve years old, he tags along some days for a bit of bonding.
It's on such occasions that he's gotten poorly veiled attempts from other parents like, "so it's just the two of you?" or "must be difficult bein' a single father," or "you've raised such a bright girl on your own, Founder bless you." Today, they take to gossip when they think he's not listening or too far away to hear them.
"What do you reckon happened to Mrs. Telamon?"
"Mrs? Oh dear, don't play dumb."
"Well, that's rather presumptuous of you."
"Not presumin' anything, just look at him."
He overhears them just fine and snorts at the last comment. He only flashes a smile and winks when one of them meets his gaze. Her eyes widen and quickly dart away as she hushes the others.
Let 'em talk. If he's lucky, Mid will get wind of it and set the record right. That Cid had always wanted kids, but never found himself in a position to have one of his own. So adoption it was. That simple; no drama, no elusive Mrs. Telamon, no divorce, subsequent broken family or tragically dead wife. Mid was smart enough to have figured it out by age six and when she did, he was more emotional about it than she was.
"Anything interestin' planned for today?" he asks as they walk side by side.
Mid kicks a rock and watches it go skittering over the sidewalk. "Eh, we're takin' a morning trip to the planetarium, then balancin' chemical equations, bit of trig after lunch, be lucky if I don't fall asleep during English lit. But then it's robotics and I can't wait to show you what I've come up with this time!"
He raises a brow at this. "Oh, and what might that be?"
She grins mischievously at him. "It's a secret. Er— a surprise! Yeah, a surprise."
"Alright, I'm lookin' forward to whatever it is," he says with a chuckle as they approach the main doors of the school and come to a stop. "Everything else goin' well here?"
She dramatically rolls her eyes and stamps her feet. "Ugh, Da, enough. For the hundredth time, I'm good here. Better than the shite school in Stony, bunch of stuck-up twats. Can't believe you made me wear those bloody uniforms," she scoffs and mocks a retching sound.
"Eh, watch the language at school," he warns, nudging her arm with his elbow.
"Yes Father dearest. Ew, that was awful, back-fired in my own mouth that did. Now go, off with you. I've got a planetarium to conquer and you've got work." She starts shoving him down the sidewalk.
He laughs openly. "Alright, Peanut, enough shovin' now, I'll see you at home later."
She bounds off without so much as a goodbye, disappearing into a gaggle of friends.
The sight of his daughter flourishing brings a smile to his face. She struggled to make friends back in Stonhyrr so this is just further confirmation that the move to Rosaria was the right choice. With Mid off to school, he heads to a small cafe to grab a coffee before heading to his office. Checking his watch, he realizes that Mid's tendency to hit the snooze button has him running a bit behind schedule.
He decides to cut through the park after the cafe. That'll save him enough time. The cafe is quaint, a mom and pop kind of place, privately owned and operated by a snarky, old woman named Charon and aptly named Charon's Cafe. It's relatively empty at this time, a few college students hunkered down at their laptops with caffeine aplenty.
"The usual for you, Cid?" The barista, a young woman named Maeve, asks as he approaches the counter.
"Aye, that'll do me," he says with a nod as he hands over his payment. A moment later she places a small cup on the counter, steam rising from the spout in the cover.
He thanks her and turns to leave when a wizened voice calls out, "You're late." He looks over his shoulder and sees Charon smirking at him from behind the counter.
"And later I'll be if I stay and chat," he shouts over his shoulder as he walks out.
He sets off at a brisk pace. There's little foot traffic at this time, most people's work day already well under way. He darts across the street and into the park. It's truly one of Rosaria's highlights, full of trees and winding paths and ponds and pavilions and garden beds and even a playground at one end, a place Mid still enjoys playing at on the weekends. The perfect kind of shortcut, scenic and effective.
He looks down at his watch for the time. He's back on schedule to arrive at the office just in time for his first meeting. With his eyes turned down, he almost misses the bounding mass of fur hurdling his way. Almost. He leaps back in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding the creature. Unfortunately he does not evade the man chasing after the hound.
"Torgal, get ba- oof!" The man catches his shoulder and his coffee goes tumbling to the ground with a splash. "Oh, Flames, I'm so sorry!"
Cid steps back from the puddle of black liquid pooling on the ground. "No harm done, lad." He looks up to greet the stranger properly, but the words die on his tongue. Oh, what a beautiful stranger he is. Cid's lips part in awe and his heart skips a beat.
"Truly, it's not okay, he's usually much better behaved than this." He shoots the hound a pointed look, but he's plenty well behaved now, looking up at his owner expectantly. "And I'm usually much more careful when chasing after him." The young man pulls out a wallet from his pocket, dark hair on the right side of messy falling in his face when he looks down. "How much was the coffee? The least I can do is pay for it considering I'm the one who spilled it." He looks back up at Cid, brushing the hair from his face to reveal an apologetic smile.
Bleeding hells, he's downright gorgeous— heart-shaped face that tapers into a strong jawline, a sculpted nose, high subtle cheekbones, pretty lips and those damn blue eyes. Cid's brain is full of static, unhearing as he gets lost in the heavenly face before him.
"Uhm, are you sure you're alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks with a tilt of his head.
Cid blinks several times and shakes his head. "Ah, sorry, just a bit lost in thought there. I appreciate the offer, darling, but it's just a cup of coffee." He doesn't miss the way the lad blushes when he calls him darling.
"I must insist," he presses, resolution firm in his rich, rugged voice. "Call me old fashioned, but I believe in making amends, even small ones."
"Well, if you insist," Cid says, flashing a grin he's been told is irresistible. "How about you buy me a cup tomorrow morning?"
At first, the young man's eyes widen, perhaps he's shocked or confused by Cid's proposal. Ah well, maybe he's not interested in older men. Or men at all. Pretty face like that probably has a girlfriend or wife even. He recovers quick enough, and that apologetic smile curls his lips once more. Cid knows that look, it's the look of polite rejection.
"Clive! There you are!” a woman's voice calls out in the distance and the lad's head turns towards it. The giant hound — could be a bloody wolf — also perks up at her voice and barks back.
There, the woman in question. Clive, he now knows, looks back at him with panic in his eyes. Even full of worry, his eyes are radiant, sparkling in the late morning sun rays that peak through the clouds.
"Apologies lad, seems I've overstepped. Consider us even. Now I've ought to be going. Ta-ra." He waves the young man off and heads to his office. He arrives ten minutes late and worse, he doesn't even have a good reason for it.
"Who was that?" Jill asks as she steps up beside Clive.
He stares off at the man walking away, lips parted on the words he wanted to say but couldn't get out in time. He's only got captivating green eyes and a gravelly voice to remember him by. No name. A wistful sigh leaves him as he clings to the scant details of the mysterious man.
"Clive? Hello?" Jill waves a hand in front of his face.
He jerks back, blinking. "Sorry, what?"
"Oh Metia, I know that look," she giggles behind her hand.
"What look?"
Jill doesn't acknowledge him as she bends down to scratch under Torgal's chin. "Who's a good boy, running into handsome men in the park so Clive can flirt with them? You're a good boy, yes you are." Torgal barks in appreciation and licks her cheek. Jill laughs and continues to dote on the hound before wiping the residual slobber off her face and standing back up.
Clive crosses his arms over his chest. "I barely spoke with him, that's hardly flirting."
Jill's eyes narrow with deft perception. The look alone is enough to call him on his bullshit. Given their long shared history, they both know it and yet she finds it necessary to say, "It's in the eyes, my dear. You can't hide it."
Clive huffs and picks up the now empty coffee cup to throw it in a nearby trash. But then he recognizes the branding as he turns it over in his hand. Maybe he could —
"Charon's?" she interrupts his devising.
He nods and replies in a low hum, "It would seem so…" He eyes the cup, the familiar logo on the side, and the gears continue to turn in his brain.
"Clive," Jill's voice lowers in forewarning. "What are you thinking?"
He looks at her with a mischievous smile. "I'm thinking of paying a visit to Charon's after my shift."
She scrubs her hand over her face with an exasperated groan. "Not flirting he says and he's already planning to track the man down by his coffee order." She rolls her eyes and tugs on Torgal's leash. "Come on, you've done enough for today." The hound barks proudly and goes along willingly.
Clive disposes of the cup and follows after them.
"See ya Tett, Crow! Bye Kihel!" Mid shouts as she waves her friends off.
She heads into town with a plan. They've been here in Rosaria for three whole months and Da hasn't done much besides work and dote on her. But she's gettin' far too old to be doted on and it's about time he focuses on what makes him happy beyond her or work. One day she'll be off to college and she needs to know he won't get lonely without her.
She tried to secretly download a dating app onto his phone and make him a profile, but he quickly discovered it and deleted it without a thought. She's left hints around the apartment— singles events in town, fancy restaurants perfect for dates, magazines with dating tips. She points out the other single parents of her school friends, but he's bloody dense. She asks about people he meets at work, but he's keen to keep things strictly professional there.
Enough is enough. Time to take matters into her own hands. But how is the question.
"Just come right out and say it, Mid. Da will appreciate the honesty," she talks herself up. "Better butter him up with a nice dinner first."
She searches up a recipe as she walks to the grocery store and eventually finds one she's satisfied with one. She's about to pass Charon's Cafe when she decides she's in the mood for a sweet treat. She practically bounces with excitement as she heads into the shop and approaches the counter.
"Eh, Mid, what can I get you?" Gav asks from the register. She's familiar with him as he typically works afternoon shifts opposite his college classes in the morning.
She gives the menu a cursory glance, but she already knows what she wants. "I'll have a caramel frappuccino with extra caramel drizzle please."
Gav winces but types in her order. "Yikes, don't know how you keep your teeth from falling out kid. Your dad know you drink this rubbish?"
"What Da doesn't know won't hurt him," she defends and blows a raspberry at Gav.
"Your funeral," he says with a shrug.
As she reaches over to pay, she overhears Charon and a man talking and her ears perk up. "—know Cid, but you best mind your business," the old woman says.
"Eh, what about my da?" She butts in quite literally as she approaches Charon and the stranger.
"Midadol," Charon regards her with her eerie glass eye that Mid theorizes is a camera. Or a demon. A demon camera. Yeah.
"Charon," she says flatly.
"Clive." The stranger says with a smile and holds his hand out to Mid.
She eyes him carefully. If this Clive fellow is talking to Charon and asking about Da, he can't be too bad, right? He certainly doesn't seem that bad— well-dressed without looking uppity, kind smile and honest eyes. Mid guesses he's a bit too nice for his own good at times. She's not sure if her da has a type, but maybe this Clive is it.
"Well you're a pretty one, aren't you?" She says with an assessing look and shakes his hand.
Clive's face falls and he actually blushes. Mid quickly realizes this was not the appropriate thing to say and laughs awkwardly as she yanks her hand away to rub at the back of her head. "Uh, sorry, been told I'm too honest sometimes."
Charon barks a laugh and walks away. "Don't say I didn't warn you, lad."
Mid sticks her tongue out at Charon's turned back, quickly feigning innocence when the woman turns around and scowls at her. She turns back to Clive and puts her hands on her hips. A display of confidence, or whatever they say. "Name's Mid Telamon, at your service. Only Da calls me Midadol when I've done something I'm not supposed to."
Her name is called at the counter and she retrieves her drink to go sit at a booth. "Oi, you comin' Clive?"
He seems surprised to have been invited. He's a strange one, that's for sure. He sits across from her at the booth, fidgeting with his hands. "So… Cid's your father."
"Adopted, but yeah, he's my da," she answers casually and she catches the way Clive's eyes brighten at this. Oh, she's seen that look before. She doesn't quite get the allure of relationships herself, chalk it up to bein' a teenager still, but when her friends talk about crushes and what not, Mid practically takes a nap. Maybe one day. But for now, she's got more important things to focus on.
His hands still and his eyes look down. "And your mother?"
"Don't have one. I mean, obviously someone popped me out twelve years ago, but I never knew her." She shrugs and takes a long slurp of her drink. "My turn. What's your last name?"
"Rosfield."
She swipes her finger through the foam and caramel drizzle of her drink before licking it off her finger. "Alright Clive Rosfield, why are you asking about my da?"
He smiles and Greagor, it's sweeter than her damn drink. Gav says her teeth will rot out from 'em and she idly wonders if that sappy look of Clive's will have the same effect on her eyes. Maybe she'll go blind instead.
When he speaks, the words match the smitten look in his eyes. "I believe I ran into your father this morning, but we didn't have a chance to exchange names or information. See, I spilled his coffee and I would very much like to pay him back or buy him another." He blushes and adds, "As amends, of course."
She stares long and hard, brows knitted together, until Clive starts to squirm. "You like my da, don't you?"
Clive sputters and frantically begins to ramble, "Excuse me, but I hardly know him, to say that I like him is quite a stretch though he is an objectively attractive man, not that you care to hear a stranger say so about your father— Flames, I should shut up." He drops his face into his hands and she imagines flustered steam radiating from him.
Mid laughs obnoxiously, even snorts a few times which makes her laugh more. Clive peaks up from his hands and appears thoroughly unamused, face as red as a strawberry. Once she collects herself, she says, "I think we can help each other out."
The rest of Cid's day passes with little of note. At least his work keeps him busy enough to not dwell on the events of the morning. Clients, and phone calls, and contract adjustments, and supplier requests. Rather boring work to most, but somethin' about it locks his brain in a flow state. Before he knows it, the day is over and he's locked up shop.
He avoids goin' back through the park and heads straight home. Mid is already preparing dinner when he arrives and the dining table is a mess of papers and books alongside her laptop.
"Peanut, what'd I say about doin' too many things as once?" he calls out as he stows his shoes and jacket in the front closet.
"Uhhh… that I'm not supposed to do it?" she says, voice lilting up in question.
He sighs with a shake of his head. "Pay attention to the food, I'll clean this up." He tidies up the dining table while intermittently checking on whatever Mid is cooking. She hasn't burnt anything in a while, but the girl still distracts so easily.
"Smells good, what're you making?" He starts up mild conversation as he tries to create some level of organization in her mess.
She dumps a bowl of sliced vegetables into the pan, sizzling on contact as a delicious aroma fills the air. "I found a one pan recipe for salmon orzo at school and it sounded tasty and easy so, yeah, that."
"And why were you lookin' up recipes while at school? Shouldn't you be doin' schoolwork? And when did we get salmon?" With the table cleared, he steps up beside her to investigate her handiwork. Two salmon fillets rest on a wire rack off to the side, cooked with a perfect crisp. In the pan there's garlic, cherry tomatoes and shallots, the source of the fragrant flavors.
She lowers the heat and reaches for a shaker of red pepper flakes, then adds a cup of orzo and some chicken stock, gently stirring it all together. "Finished all my schoolwork and got bored so I wanted to learn something new. Power of the Internet, Pops. And I stopped at the grocery store after school."
He shakes his head. This girl, can't tether her if he tried. "Then what was all over my dining room?"
"Research." She grins up at him as she covers the pan with a lid. She appears far too proud as she crosses her arms over her chest.
He nods in realization. "Ah, for the surprise?"
"Yup!" Somehow, she grins wider at this.
When he tries to help with the remaining steps of cooking, she shoos him away with a well aimed swat of her spatula. "Let me do it Da!"
He raises his hands in surrender and goes to wait at the table. He takes the opportunity to slow down and appreciate the life they have here, how truly fortunate he is to be raising such a smart, independent girl as Mid. It's been long overdue to see her thrive and he's grateful to have been able to provide her the opportunity. His life is rich, full of pride over Mid, fulfillment in his work, and peace and stability in his home.
Yet his mind drifts back to his run-in with a good-looking stranger this morning, the man named Clive with a dog that could pass as a wolf. And a woman. He lets out a heavy sigh and pulls his phone out to distract himself until dinner is finished. He scrolls mindlessly, cleans out his email, and even snoops on things back in Stonhyrr.
A few moments later, a plate of salmon orzo appears in front of him. "Dinner is served. It's hot though," Mid advises.
"Why thank you. Looks delicious, compliments to the chef. And remind me to tip the staff very well," he jests with a wink.
She beams brightly and sits opposite him with her own plate. As she breaks up her food and spreads it out to cool faster, she shares about her school day. About the planetarium, about how she solved an "unsolvable" equation in chemistry, a new book on the history of invention, how she got in trouble for reading said book in her literature class instead of the assigned text, and —
"And then I took the high frequency ray gun and blasted a hole in the wall!" She makes elaborate noises in lieu of sound effects.
"Really now?" he replies absently, taking small bites of food as it cools off.
She drops her fork with a clang on the plate. "Da, you're not even listening to me. High frequency ray guns can't do structural damage, we've been over this." He looks up to see her pouting at him. "Why aren't you listening?"
Another heavy sigh leaves him. "I'm sorry Peanut. Bit of a strange day for me."
Her pout fades and is replaced with a peculiar amount of interest. "Why? What happened? Something go wrong at work? Is everything okay?"
"No, no, work is fine, good actually. It's nothing to worry your little head about," he says, though he doesn't hide the chagrin in his voice.
"Da, if there's something I can help with—"
"Mid, we've had this talk before," he cuts her off with a firm voice. "Adult problems are for adults. I don't need to be bothering you with that sort of thing. Alright?"
"Fine. Keep your secrets then," she huffs and resumes stuffing her face.
He smiles warmly at her, the light of his life, and tucks into his own plate.
The next day is much like the previous, though today he forgoes walking Mid to school. He does his best to strike a balance of staying engaged in his daughter's life while also giving her room to spread her wings and fly.
"Okay, I'm off Da, have a good day! Oh, and Charon's got a new special, you should check it out!" she shouts as she runs out the door, not leaving him any opportunity to respond.
He shakes his head with a sigh and cleans up breakfast before heading out.
As he walks to work, he debates whether or not to stop at Charon's, even with Mid's suggestion. Such a regular part of the routine he's developed since moving here, all thrown into disarray by a single person. Though Rosaria is quite a minor city, he accepts that it's likely he'll never see Clive again. He's been here all of three months and they've never crossed paths before. Not that it matters, he reminds himself, as Clive's a taken man by all appearances.
His feet guide him out of habit and he strolls up to the cafe. Well, he's here now, might as well get his caffeine fix. Greagor knows he's useless without the stuff. The place is much busier at this hour, everyone else getting their morning coffee before heading to work just like him. He waits in line, idling his time by checking his emails on his phone until it's his turn.
"Good morning Cid! What will you be havin' today?" Maeve greets him.
"Morning to you as well. Mid mentioned a new special, any idea what that is?" he asks as he searches the menu for it.
"Just the seasonal specials. Lots of pumpkin if you're into that sort of thing."
He stares at the menu, scolding himself for not taking advantage of his wait in line to decide. "Hmm, any recommendations?"
She begins, "Well the iced—"
"My personal favorite is the Obsidian, an extra-dark roast. Not seasonal or special. Bit of a chocolatey note to it though," a rich voice says beside him.
His head whips to the side and his eyes go wide at who he sees. It's none other than Clive. His brain stalls as it tries to process what's happening. Greagor, he's more beautiful than before, how is that possible? Cid's mouth is dry as a desert, not that it matters as no words form behind his lip.
"Oh, that's a good recommendation, Clive. If you're into dark roasts, anyway," Maeve chimes in, breaking him from this enchanting spell.
"Right, uhm…" He's usually much quicker on his feet than this. Clive smiles at him expectantly. "Might be a bit too bold for me. I'll give the Glowing Ember blend a go," he says and before he can retrieve his payment, he hears the contactless card reader ding. He looks up and sees Clive retrieving his card, their eyes locking in a silent exchange. Even standing in front of him, Cid doubts his presence, wonders if he's still asleep and dreaming in his bed.
"It'll be ready at the end of the counter in a bit. Have a good day, Cid!"
He nods at Maeve and steps down to the end of the counter to wait for his drink. He watches Clive place his own order. The lad oozes charm and not an ounce seems forced or disingenuous. The way his smiles reaches his whole face, the kindness with which he treats the staff, the way he carefully maneuvers around other patrons so he doesn't bump into anyone. Like some kind of modern day Prince Charming, straight out of the fairy tales he used to read Mid when she was little.
"So Cid, is it?" Clive asks as he joins him a moment later. They stand side by side, leaning against a wall while they wait for their orders to be called. Somehow the lad's cologne — bright and fresh at first, underlaid by a deeper smoky base — eclipses the concentrated aroma of freshly ground coffee, an inviting warmth that manages to not overpower the senses, but leaves a lasting impression. He could get drunk off the scent alone.
He chances a glance at him. "Aye. And you're Clive?"
Clive turns and offers his hand, a captivating smile on his face. "I am."
Cid takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "Thanks for the coffee lad. I'll be honest, I'm quite surprised to see you again." Surprised, but certainly not disappointed. Though he's not sure what to make of their second meeting and remains hesitant. Perhaps it's just another coincidence. Charon's is a popular place to grab coffee after all.
"Really?" Clive tilts his head and it's reminiscent of that pup of his. "I thought I was quite clear with my intention to repay you for the coffee that I spilled."
Cid snorts, a combination of amusement and disbelief. "So you're tellin' me this wasn't a coincidence and that, what? You planned this?"
The lad blushes and his eyes dart away. "I… might have recognized the branding on your coffee yesterday and I may have come and asked the staff if you were a regular and Charon may have mentioned you and I'll admit this next part is pure luck. There was a young girl that might have overheard me and said she knew you."
If this is going where he thinks it's going, Mid is in for it later. Little brat set him up with that "check out the new special" bullshit.
Their names are called one after the other and Clive retrieves both drinks. Cid nods in thanks as he takes his coffee and they exit the cafe together. He's silently grateful when Clive continues to walk alongside him as he makes his way to work.
After a few steps and sips of their drinks, Clive clears his throat. "As I was saying, I had rather fortunate timing and was able to chat with this bold and brilliant girl named Mid," he pauses, and Cid feels the warmth in his watchful gaze, the way his voice softens with admiration. "She's fiercely protective over you. I can only imagine what you've done to earn that." There's a strange twinge of sadness in his reflection.
Cid's mouth curls at one corner in a half-smile as it echoes something within him. "Aye, I find myself wondering the same thing at times. Didn't do anything special raising her… Made plenty of mistakes, that's for sure."
Clive only hums in acknowledgement as he returns his gaze ahead. It seems the topic of family may be a sore spot and so Cid allows it to fade into the cool autumn air.
"So… You went to all that effort to make amends?" He asks with a smirk. There he goes getting hopeful again, but he can't help it. There's something about Clive that's magnetic, something he wants to know and be close to. Certainly doesn't hurt that the lad is drop dead gorgeous, but it's more than that.
"Well, yes, but not just that," he admits with a sideways glance. If it weren't for his hair falling in his face again, Cid assumes he'd see a pretty flush on his cheeks.
Yet the lad's flustered state and this elaborate rouse hasn't explained one thing and Cid is done beating around the bush. "And your woman knows about this?"
Clive chokes on his drink, coughing into his arm until he recovers. "Flames, Cid, who are you talking about?"
Cid frowns at this. Clive doesn't seem like the lyin' type, what with his old fashioned habits, his polite demeanor, even the way he speaks has a proper air to it. So why deny something so evident?
He's already in this deep, might as well go all the way. "The lass that was with you yesterday. The one you all but panicked about when I was flirting with you!"
Clive's eyes widen and then he lets out an absurd laugh. "Jill? Oh dear Founder, Jill is certainly not mine by any stretch of the word. She's simply a childhood friend. One who very much enjoys tormenting me when it comes to attractive men."
"Oh." For the first time in a while, Cid's face warms with embarrassment. He scrubs his hand over his face, settling on his jaw and scratching at his beard. "Well that certainly changes things," he mutters to himself.
Clive leans in and catches his eye with a cheeky smile. "So you were flirting with me."
"And you just said I'm attractive. Seems we're both flirting now," he grumbles back.
"So it would seem."
Clive walks him the rest of the way to his office in a companionable silence. It's strangely comfortable walking alongside him, no anxious pressure to talk, no weird insecurity about what Clive might think of him. There's something easy about being next to the lad, like it settles his soul. He's almost sad when he arrives at the entrance of his work.
"Well, this is me," he says and gestures to the stone building behind him. "I appreciate your company on my walk to the office. And of course, my coffee. Consider amends made."
Clive laughs at his jest. "The pleasure was mine."
There's a lull and this time the quiet is fragile. It seems like Clive might take his leave, stirring a worry in Cid that he'll never see the lad again.
Sod it, Cid's not letting this opportunity pass him by a second time. "Listen Clive…" He straightens his shoulders, but he can't bring his eyes to meet the lad. "I've not seriously done this in some time, but…"
"Cid?"
He looks up and Clive is only a step from him. The sudden proximity lets him really indulge in Clive's beauty, heart pitter-pattering behind his ribs. His eyes shine like sapphires, gazing at Cid as though he is the prized to be held here.
Oh Greagor still this old man's beatin' heart.
Clive reaches forward and grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. "I would like to take you out on a proper date. One that doesn't involve the intervention of your daughter or me ambushing you at Charon's," he says with that dashing gentle smile.
The touch of humor is just what Cid needed and he laughs, squeezing the hand clasped in his. "Aye, I'd very much like that."