"Should I be afraid?" the man behind the counter inquires. "Coming right up. What name do I call when your reminder about ethics is ready?"

"Yvette. Fear not my wrath, humble ambrosia peddler. You have not earned my ire."

"Oh good."

He steps out of sight to begin producing her drink. Another bleary-eyed student comes up to buy a bottle of iced tea and a danish, and then he reappears at the other end of the counter. "Yvette! Your ambrosia arrives!"

The cup bears the message: YVETTE – Murders committed today: 0 (good job!)

She smiles at him, and takes her cup of socially acceptable drugs. Then she sees the message. Fortunately, she has enough presence of mind to carefully sets her coffee back down on the counter before she spills it cracking up.

"Thank you," she huffs between giggles, delighted.

He beams. "You're welcome! Enjoy your coffee!"

"Thanks." She aborts the automatic polite reply of you too for being factually incorrect, then tips him, and...

...

... well, he's cute, he's funny, she likes him, and if she doesn't make it awkward, it's surely not very rude for her to write her number down on a nearby napkin and slide it over to him when he's not busy. Right? That doesn't seem rude. He's being paid to be friendly, with how tipping works, but giving him her number instead of trying to flirt with him lets him have the power to completely ignore her if he'd like to do that.

"Have a good day," she says, sliding the aforementioned napkin towards the ambrosia peddler in question, before immediately fleeing, all of her social graces for the morning used up.

...well then.

She gets a text that evening: Kill count still 0, I hope?

A little later, she replies: Kill count still 0! The coffee was just in time.

Glad to hear it.

Me too! I would be so bored in prison.

Common complaint about prison, the boredom.

Is it? Well now I'll have to think of a new one!

That would only be relevant if you went there, and you've been doing so well on the murder front.

It's technically also relevant to keep me out, I like weighing incentive structures in favor of things I like.

Also, oh hey, guess who forgot to read your nametag. It's me. Help?

Ha. My name's Eden.

Pretty! Rejoice and/or despair, you are no longer named Cute Coffee Guy in my contacts list.

Awwwwwwww.

I will probably end up buying a coffee maker jsyk. I apologize for this presumed blasphemy against the coffee chain gods.

I promise we won't go out of business for lack of your esteemed patronage.

Oh good!

And I probably would've run out of cute jokes about murder to write on the cups. Eventually.

Aww, now I'll never know what they would be!!

You could come by for a coffee once in a while and find out.

This is all part of your nefarious coffee plot, isn't it. I'm onto you.

Yes. Definitely. Nefarious coffee plot. You have uncovered my secret.

I knew it! I shall not fall to your schemes, sir!

We'll see about that.

The next message takes a little while, and there's a long pause of [Yvette is typing...] before:

Your nefarious plots have no end, I see. Well, if you really must see me, we could go on a date.

There's a pause on his end, too.

I don't normally date customers, but you *are* very cute.

You're also very cute!! It's also fine if you'd rather not? I was trying not to put you on the spot while you were at work, but I have trouble finding people that banter with me so well. And you're cute. As mentioned.

The banter is admittedly excellent. All right, let's go on a date. Where to?

I'm partial to looking at pretty things and dates where one can actually talk. So, no movies, please. Otherwise, idk.

Or maybe only movies that are very bad?

And a couple of seconds later, What are your thoughts on botanical gardens?

That they're pretty and good for walking around in! Also good for a college budget!

Bad movies make good dates, but only in private? I hate being rude to other people there to watch the movie.

That's fair. Botanical garden it is, then.

Sounds good. I don't have class on Wednesdays and all the weekend, if you are free from coffee scheming then.

The scheming never ends, but I'm off work Saturday.

Okay. We could be weird and go in the morning to beat the crowds?

I love being weird!

That's the spirit! Meet at 10AM at the entrance, then?

Sounds good!

Okay! See you then.

In between then and Saturday, though: she sends him a picture of her shiny new coffee maker, along with the message, Behold, the end to your schemes! Look upon modern machinery and despair!

Oh no! Whatever shall I do?

Despair, silly! Didn't you read my instructions?

Do I strike you as the sort of person who follows instructions?

Fair point. Then I suppose I shall leave you to sort it out yourself. React how you like! The future is in your hands!

That's exactly where I like the future to be!

Reasonable. It would kind of suck to have your life and opinions dictated to you by some chick you met in a coffee shop.

Wouldn't it just.

Also: no seriously where would I find the time to micromanage someone else.

Valid point.

I have classes! And homework! And neither of those are related to the minutiae of your life! Really, I have no qualifications, my resume is poor and I have no references to speak of.

If I ever hold interviews for micromanager of my life, I'll be sure to send you to the back of the queue.

What, no! At least I know I'm not qualified! Others wouldn't be either and then try to say they were!!

Are you imagining my standards are so low?

... No, but still! That's got to be mid queue, not very last!

Fair, fair.

Thank you. My honor is restored.

I pride myself on my fairness.

That's a nice quality to have.

I certainly like to think so!

Good. Gold star. ⭐

I shall treasure it forever.

As you should!

Okay, going to stop procrastinating on my homework now. Wish me luck against the terrors of economics!

Good luck! Economics will learn to fear your name, I'm sure.

Without a doubt!

Eventually: Saturday morning arrives, and here is Yvette. In nice but casual clothes, pretty but practical shoes, and flattering but understated makeup.

Eden is a few minutes early, dressed in a plain black T-shirt and a slightly beat-up pair of blue jeans. Although the jeans are a little scuffed and the shirt is fairly forgettable, both of them fit him perfectly, and he looks very nice in them. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and he smiles as soon as he sees her.

She smiles back, a mixture of nervous and delighted.

"Hey! You look nice," she says, because it's true.

"Thank you! So do you."

"Thanks! So, shall we wander around and see what sorts of pretty plants are available, or find a map or something and try to hit the high points?"

"I'm afraid I've been here too often for there to be very many mysteries left. I like plants. But I'd be happy to show you around."

She giggles.

"Well, all right then. I haven't been here before at all, so by all means. Give me the grand tour."

Into the botanical garden they go!

There are so. Many. Plants.

Eeeeeee!

Yvette turns out to like plants in more dimensions than just visual appreciation. She coos over particularly impressive varieties of flowers and plants, or frowns thoughtfully at something she doesn't recognize and then immediately checks with an app on her phone. She must know, clearly!

"I've been thinking about majoring in sorcery," she explains, as she carefully snaps a picture of a flower to feed to the tender ministrations of her phone's plant-discernment algorithm. "Probably in natural alchemy, but I think I'd want to wait on having a better perspective after taking the 101 classes in order to really commit to something in particular?"

"Natural alchemy is one of my favourite things! I'm TAing the introductory course this year."

She beams at him, delighted. "Oh, cool! So you're... uh, a graduate, or an undergrad, or...? I am not entirely clear on how it works here yet. Canada is a strange place, I have to stop and remind myself not to call myself a sophomore to avoid confusion."

"Graduate. Focusing on alchemy, but I've also studied computer science and enchantment—more people should combine those; the number of parallels is incredible."

"I bet! I was leaning natural alchemy in particular because my dad teaches chemical engineering, and has this habit of accidentally spewing really detailed lectures on the subject if someone sneezes. It got me thinking about... how much could be done if small changes were made to substances? And I have this helpful familial relation with a person who just might know where to poke, and there's a tantalizing hint of a potential of unique leverage that is kind of hard to resist. And I'm not sure I should try."

"Oh, interesting," he says. "Traditionally, chemistry and alchemy mostly stop interacting once they've learned how to avoid each other—natural alchemists have to know enough chemistry to avoid combining things that shouldn't combine, and chemists have to know enough alchemy to avoid accidentally doing any—there have been attempts to combine the two, but it's been an understudied area ever since humanity first realized they were different things to begin with. You could be onto something. Or you could be totally wasting your time; there's only one way to find out. Such is the way of science."

She giggles. "Such is the way of science," she agrees. "We'll see, I'm leaning majoring that way, anyway. Economics as a department has not won me over, for example."

"Oh, has it not? What has it done to earn your wrath?"

"It has not earned my wrath," she corrects, amused. "It has failed to earn my favor. There is a difference. It is a perfectly respectable and somewhat fascinating field, but it's sort of..." She trails off, looking for the right words. "Okay, so it's about creating models of things, and coming up with clever ideas, and then convincing other people that I'm right, except none of us really know until we try it? I think it's a useful sort of thing to take a couple of classes in, but I feel like I'd become frustrated if it were my whole world. Whereas in the science community, everyone is out to prove I'm wrong anyway and I know where I stand. I wouldn't be guilty of... Thinking I'm right and then turning out to being grievously wrong. With science it's different. Yeah, I might have been wrong, but I convinced other people to test something new, so it's still a net victory for science as a whole. Whereas if I mess up with an economic model, oh no now we're in a recession."

"Hm. Yeah, I see that."

"Also if I went into economics I'd have to smile pretty for so many people, it would be exhausting."

"Are smiles a required feature in an economist? I didn't know."

"Not precisely smiles, but since economics is entirely a subject based around other people, and then convincing people that I'm right... yeah a pretty smile is kind of required sometimes. Especially for a woman in a male dominated field based on social graces. Maybe not all the time, in all circumstances, but probably enough to outpace my inborn desire for professionalism and go right into 'augh, people, why.'"

"If I were you I think I'd be worried about the same problem in any other branch of science, but maybe that's just the cynicism talking."

"Well. Yes. The only way I could maybe avoid it would be to flee from the male dominated fields entirely and take up, uh, nursing or teaching or something coded feminine. But that seems..." She makes a face. "I'm smart and talented, and why should I not make it easier for other girls that are probably just as smart and talented in the future and might want more options?"

"Very reasonable!"

"I try to be!"

"You appear to succeed!"

"Thank you," she laughs. "Flatterer."

"Ah, so you belong to the school of thought that says it's still flattery if it's true?"

"I do! The word is based on the action done, not with what implement it's done with. Though I suppose admittedly here I could also describe it as 'flirting.' If I were feeling charitable."

"Charitable?"

"The rules of flirting are arcane and complicated and often unknown. Who knows how they work? I am not so arrogant as to proclaim that I can disentangle such things without assistance," she says, with mock seriousness.

He giggles.

"Flattery, though, is absolutely fair game. Completely different ruleset. Not entangled with flirting at all."

"I contest that assertion."

"It is admittedly wild and baseless and also blatantly false," she admits.

Giggle.

She giggles, too.

"Okay, I'm done. That web of twisting silliness has grown too confusing for me to play with for giggles."

"It was a very good web of twisting silliness. I'm impressed."

"I bet I could have done better with some pre-planning. It wasn't bad for improv," she demures.

"Well, now you're just bragging." He pauses. "I approve."

She giggles again.

"Are you an expert in bragging, then?"

Innocently: "Who, me?"

She snorts, then slides forward to slip her hand in his and smile up at him.

"What would you brag about if, purely hypothetically, you were?"

"Oh, probably my wit and intellect. They're my most impressive features outside the realm of the physical, and it's gauche to brag about those."

"And it wouldn't do for someone witty and intelligent to brag about their physical attributes in anything but an indirect sense. I'm glad you're so socially aware," she teases, tracing little circles onto the back of his hand with her thumb.

He grins delightedly down at her. "Yes, social awareness is another of those things it's gauche to brag about."

He has such beautiful eyes and such a pretty smile.

"Aha. Then by your impeccable knowledge in the field, I have figured out your bragging abilities! You are an expert braggart, congratulations."

"Thank you! I'm very proud."

"As you should be. You're not even one of the insufferable braggarts! Nicely done, I commend you."

"Well, of course, you're hardly a very good braggart if you're insufferable about it. First rule of bragging."

"And yet so few remember it! A terrible pity for all those unfortunate enough to be alone with them."

"Indeed."

"How fortunate for me!" Pause. "Though if I'm not mistaken, I think we've run out of park to be alone together in. Unless you want to do another lap in case I was too distracted to remember the first."

"No, no," he says. "We leave now, and then there will still be exciting things for you to discover when we come back."

"Ah, I see! A clever strategy. But now where will we go?"

"Where would you like to?"

"Uh. Lunch acquisition of some sort?" she offers, less out of hunger, and more out of a blatant desire to spend a little more time with him.

"Sounds good! What sort of lunch?"

"Not a fancy sit down sort of restaurant? I'm kind of in the mood for some sort of easily transportable meal, so we can go look at more pretty things of some kind. Otherwise, no real preferences."

"Sure."

He smiles affectionately down at her, and leads her out of the botanical garden and across the street to a cute little bakery whose wide selection of baked goods contains many items suitable for this purpose.

Aw! This bakery is adorable, and she approves of it.

If it's all right with him, she'll quietly hold his hand (occasionally smiling up at him) until they get to the front of the line, upon which she'll pay for her own lunch of a toasted sandwich thing.

Yes!

He acquires a small stack of adorable pastries. There, now they have lunch.

Hooray! Lunch! And a return to hand holding, which is clearly very important!

"Where to?" she invites, once they're out of the bakery.

"Hmm. Not directly back to the botanical garden, I think. We could sit down, or find somewhere else to wander."

"Hmm. Sit down for a bit, then walk around when we're done eating?"

"Sure!"

They find a suitable place outside to sit, and then unfortunately Yvette must stop holding Eden's hand in order to eat her sandwich. Alas. A tragedy.

"So, what are your future plans? In a general, long term sense, I mean."

"I'm probably going to end up in pure research, fiddling with obscure magical phenomena to see what they think of each other. But if that falls through... well, maybe I'll take one of those castle custodian jobs where the only qualification is your willingness to live alone in the middle of nowhere and make sure the castle doesn't fall down."

She blinks, once, very slowly.

"... Where you will probably end up fiddling with obscure magical phenomena in privacy and solitude without any funding to speak of?" she guesses, on a hunch.

"Yes. Was it that obvious?"

"Just a little." She winks.