#whatever though

honestly, he barely had time to breathe most days. and that was fine! he rarely knew what to do without some problem to fix or task to complete. it was an unfamiliar feeling, and so he often took on extra work whenever he could. as such, he’d developed a bit of a knack for all the odd jobs you could think of: flower arrangements, finding lost things, getting stains out of clothes, cooking, any and everything.

he’d never had a problem with this. his life was crowded, but straightforward. he knew the answer to every problem, and if he didn’t, he knew who did.

this was, of course, before you entered the picture. now, the tasks he sought out felt too heavy to carry. yes, he wanted to help his family, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was only so many times he could show up late before you’d stop trying to invite him places, and that was the last thing he wanted.

you weren’t fatui, but you didn’t mind that he was and father had given him clearance so long as he was “responsible with his loyalties,” which was entirely achievable! what showman couldn’t juggle?

…him, apparently. because between helping lynette find her tea (someone had moved it) and keeping the local wildlife safe from foltz, he’d lost track of time. he still wasn’t used to a block of free time in his schedule, automatically trying to fill it before he could remember that there was a reason for it. and now, he was rushing through the streets of fontaine, fixing his cape as he all but ran.

you were sat outside the cafe in the same chair as usual, and he slows to a regular pace as he approaches to gather what remained of his appearance. you were reading a book, and he felt both proud that you hadn’t forced yourself to sit there plainly and also ashamed of the fact that it was his fault. regardless, he cleared his throat and called your name, sitting across from you and meeting your smile with his own.

your book was a mystery novel, one he easily enough got you talking about with a bit of prompting. judging by the place your bookmark held, you were a good ways through it, likely just before the reveal. just from your summary, he could easily guess the culprit, but what was the point in ruining your fun?

“so, who do you think it is?”

there were few things lyney liked more than seeing the people he cared for happy and in their element. you got to share your theories and he could listen to your voice out of all the bustle in the city, ordering ile flottante to have an excuse to keep quiet. your own tea was growing cold, but he could always get you another. would picking up the tab make up for his tardiness? it probably shouldn’t.

around halfway through your defense of the butler—cleared by his alibi, but still deemed suspicious by the bartender—you stopped, looking somewhere over his shoulder. he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary..

your hand rose to tap at your face, just at the corner of your lip. “you’ve got icing on you, by the way.”

ah. well, wasn’t that the perfect topping to his evening?

he grabbed a napkin and quickly wiped across the offending cheek, but you shook your head. “no, the other one.”

at least you were smiling? that made his mistake worth it. he was usually a tidy eater—but he also usually didn’t order flottante, since it was usually too sweet for his liking. today, he’d decided to give it a try, and look where that had gotten him…

he told you as such, and you laughed. he liked hearing you laugh. laughter meant happiness, and happiness meant a job well done. maybe he should get it more often?

“are you doing this intentionally?”

he folded the napkin twice, eyes on you. “doing what intentionally?”

“you missed it twice.” oh, archons- “here, just sit still.”

he didn’t have much time to protest before you were taking your napkin in hand, carefully swiping it an inch or so to the side from where he’d guessed. like him, you folded the mess inside, but unlike him you actually had something on yours, a pale gold in the afternoon light. the whole interaction had lasted maybe a second or two, but it stuck in his head for far longer.

you put a lot of trust into him, more than he knew what to do with. people were not typically fond of the fatui, and even less fond of the magician who could snatch their wallets before they could blink (nevermind that he’d had to learn that skill to survive). it was strange that he could make the same mistake over and over and your faith that he would show never wavered.