"Wow, aren't you as dazzling as ever, Vivi~♡." They aren't that close to being on shortened names, yet, and here he is, shortening her name!

You could accuse him of being inattentive.

When Vivi fails to show up for work one day, Cecil only wonders where she's gone. He assumes something's come up since she doesn't text—and it isn't so strange for people to appear and disappear on a whim.

When she does message him, it's to say she's sick—and again he takes that in stride (who hasn't been ill?) and grants her leave from work. Vivi is a responsible, accommodating employee; he's naturally willing to be generous.

By the third day, human common sense catches up to the marquis, who realizes that his current girlfriend 1) isn't living in an estate full of servants to look after all her needs and 2) never told him exactly what she was ill with. So during lunch he detours to an expensive restaurant to order some soup, before teleporting with the food as a surprise to Vivi's current quarters.

❛ You are well, I hop—? ❜ Surprised by the sight, Cecil switches to formal speech immediately.

People-watching was definitely fun, even more so in a place like that, where Lyney was still occasionally surprised by the creatures who appeared here and there. He was fascinated, it's true. But, that day, what really caught his eye was the style of a certain someone.

Smiling, he nonchalantly got up from the bench he was on and then approached her from behind, gently touching her shoulder to get her attention. "Excuse me, I can't help but say it," he began, when the young woman gave him her attention. "I loved your clothes! And your hair, mon dieu. I think you should know that." ~

"I was beginning to think you had quit."

He's... on the ground. Right in Vivianne's path. He is in no graceful position, limbs sprawled almost unnaturally, given his flexibility. It did not seem as though he had taken the time to lay down for a nap— the man had passed out and fell down. Hard. He fell hard. Perhaps he had simply assumed there would be someone around to catch him. He's drooling a bit, too. It shouldn't be too hard to wake him up— maybe just... kick him. Or shake him a little.

Ah, the other pink haired face he had remembered encountering not too terribly long ago. She was an oddity to him, still new, still fresh. Still technically a stranger. And yet her presence wasn't unwanted.

Not even now, when he could tell something was happening to him on a scale he couldn't bring himself to think too deeply over.

That first thought, of a familiar stranger, haunts his subconscious in a way that he thought harmless until his mouth opens and with it comes-

"It's funny in a way. I usually find myself among strangers more often these days. Likely because I feel the need to drift here and there trying to forget--"

His hand is quick to slap over his mouth to cease those words before the rest can tumble out beyond the Too Much he'd already allowed to escape.

Something cold slithers down the back of his skull and against his pulse as he fights back the harsh tickle in his throat. Like he had swallowed something and it had stuck itself to his tonsils. It is a few harsh beats of silence before he can clear his throat.

"Oh, but where are my manners?" Someone suddenly accosting her was probably a little strange, too, so the heiress flashed her brightest smile. "I am Navia! And I may have a request to make of you."