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“There you go, a bag of sweets for your assistance!” Lyney chirped, dipping into a gracious but exaggerated bow before handing over the much sought after bag of sweet candies to his young assistant, a girl of about eight years of age. The girl’s eyes gleamed with joy, mouth curling from a startled ‘o’ into a grin that reminded Lyney of his more expressive family members.
Fondness spread through him in waves, and he bowed once more for his young, clapping audience. He thrilled in the showmanship of it all, in holding his audience’s attention, and it felt even better when the audience consisted of a bunch of children, who could be harsher critics than adults sometimes.
It was satisfying when he could outdo children’s imaginations with his and Lynette’s magic tricks. That was the case now, too, and the wide smile on his face was only partially showmanship.
“Now, children,” he said, clapping his hands together, “time to head home, don’t you think? Lunch time is fast approaching.”
The children all looked put off by his words, but Lyney laughed again and shook his head. “Now, now, I know you all want more, but magic is best enjoyed with full bellies and rested minds! No one can enjoy a good show if they’re hungry and grumpy.”
That seemed to do the trick, though most of the kids still left only reluctantly and for the promise of Lyney treating them to another show of magic soon. But despite their sulking, they soon began to chatter with one another, their voices excited and happy, and Lyney watched them go with a softer smile on his face.
He so did enjoy the grander magic shows—the stage was where he felt most accomplished, after all—but there was something special performing for an audience of maybe fifteen children at most.
A purr and a push against his calf stirred Lyney from his musings and pulled his attention down to his legs. A calico cat snuggled against him, not at all subtly demanding his attention.
“Oh!” Lyney laughed. “Didn’t notice you there, buddy.”
The cat rubbed his head further against his leg, his paws rising to press down on Lyney’s shoes. Lyney knelt down to pick the cat up into his arms from the pavement. Few strays were so used to kindness that they trusted Lyney to do so, but this one was. It reminded him of Lynette, in some ways, as well as… someone else.
Lyney’s smile faltered, and his heart fluttered at where his mind had threatened to wander. It wasn’t an unpleasant direction as much as it was uncertain. And Lyney had had enough uncertainties in his life as it was.
He rose up with the cat snuggled in his arms. The patchwork patterns on his fur rippled with the cat’s steady, contented breaths, and Lyney stroked him gingerly, studying him instead of resuming his previous thoughts. When his fingers moved to the cat’s head, behind his ears, his nails snagged on a patch of dried blood.
“Oh, dear,” Lyney murmured, a frown tensing the skin of his face. “You have been fighting again, haven’t you?”
The cat gave a low mreow as if responding to him, and curled deeper into his arms. Or he was hungry. Lyney glimpsed other scars between thinner patches of fur—these were older, weeks in the making. One of the cat’s ears was half-bitten off, but it had healed somewhat. Freminet had confirmed there were no infections. Lyney felt terrible for the cat regardless, for the life he had had to lead.
Lyney thought of the scar behind a certain Harbinger’s ear and the mystery of how such a scar could even have happened. His imagination brought up several options, alternating from silly teenage dares to the darkness that loomed around the Fatui. The darkness he himself was well acquainted with.
He recalled the feeling of his own fingers brushing against that scar when he had tucked a flower behind the taller man’s ear just as well as he recalled the ensuing embarrassment at his own daring and the sound of Tartaglia’s—Childe’s—amused laughter. His face heated even now remembering it.
He pinched at the cat’s ear as if to chide it, and tutted. “You should try to lead a more peaceful existence. Are we not feeding you properly?”
“Ah, ah, a warrior’s spirit can’t be so easily tamed as by food alone, comrade,” a familiar, warm voice spoke up, startling Lyney so badly his arms nearly went lax. That voice was as clear and bright as the sunlight above them: the sun caressed the stone pavements and rising stairs around the city streets, gleaning off the fountain waters, highlighting the beautiful and ignoring the ugly like a magician’s diversion.
Childe, for he insisted that there be no unnecessary formalities between them, was leaning against the side of a bench, two fingers lifted to his forehead in mock salute.
“Oh!” Lyney said, startled, with jitters at the pit of his belly. The cat protested at his wandering attention with a meow! Lyney hardly noticed, but his hand resumed its petting motion. “I thought you’d be busy today?”
This was said into the space of several meters between them, where the words hung awkwardly while Childe simply smiled and watched him, letting his eyes roam over Lyney in a manner that made Lyney both thrilled and skittish. It was nice to be appreciated. But this was treacherous ground he was treading on.
Childe cocked his head thoughtfully. He wasn’t close enough for Lyney to see his dimples, but Lyney knew from the sound of his voice that they must be present.
Oh, how dazzling! How Father would despair to see Lyney acting the fool for Childe; but, thankfully, Father wasn’t present.
“Change of plans, I guess,” Childe said, in the end. He didn’t sound too bothered; so that must mean today was one of his better days. “Lunchtime isn’t best for sparring with anyone anyways, so I figured I’d come to see you since I’m not on the clock for official business right now. But I see you already have some handsome company of your own!”
The cat raised his head as if recognizing he was spoken about. He didn’t quite hiss when Childe pushed himself off the bench and came closer, but his ears twitched and slid back.
Childe reached his hand out and patted the cat affectionately. “A fellow fighter, I can tell. Like I said, we can’t be held back when there’s a fight to be had. Is that not so, friend?”
The cat hissed and tried to retread from Childe’s hand by attempting to bury its head into the crook of Lyney’s elbow. It was not quite successful.
“He’s pretty grumpy,” Lyney said apologetically. Didn’t think he wanted Childe to slip that hand under his magician’s hat and ruffle his hair. No, sir, he was not thinking that. “He doesn’t take well to strangers. It took him a while before he even warmed up to Freminet.”
“That’s a shame,” Childe said with good humor as he took his hand back. His fingers hoverred in the air between them for a bit before Child set it on his own hip. “Maybe he’s just jealous and worries I’ll hog all your attention? I can relate; I can get pretty jealous too, sometimes.”
Childe’s gaze went to where Lyney’s hand stroked the cat. This close, Lyney saw the flash of some darker feeling in the depths of Childe’s bottomless blue eyes. It made his heart stutter, his insides squirm. Jealousy was such an ugly emotion, but one he knew well.
“There’s no need for that,” Lyney laughed, eyes twinkling, mouth curled upwards. Flirting was just another type of magic show, which covered up feelings of anxiety and nervousness. Lyney’s mouth went on its own, without consulting his brain, “Or are you saying you want to curl up in my arms, too?”
“Well,” Childe said, after a pause, “I’m not not saying that.”
Lyney’s mouth, which moments ago seemed to have a mind of its own, opened but no words came out for a solid fifteen seconds. Heat flared across his face.
“Oh, I was… joking,” he said, afraid he had overstepped. His arms tensed, and the cat squirmed in reaction. Lyney set him down thoughtlessly. It gave him a moment to not look at Childe and gather himself.
“I wasn’t,” Childe said cheerily just as Lyney straightened up. Their eyes met, and Childe’s smile widened. “I always say what I mean, after all. I don’t really like lying all that much, you know. It’s silly.”
Lyney had to admit that ever since Childe and he had started interacting when Childe had arrived in Fontaint some time ago, there had been… tension between them. Uncertainty. Lyney knew well his own uncertainty regarding the Harbinger, and how it had transformed into something else over time as Childe had kept on visiting.
His stomach squirmed pleasantly again. They had been flirting, admittedly, at least Lyney had. He wasn’t quite sure if Childe had done the same before, but now….
“Unfortunately you’re much too big for my arms,” Lyney said, theatrically spreading his arms for emphases. He shook his head and gave a little sigh. “I can’t lift you up like I did him.”
“Hey now,” Childe said, eyes narrowing with something like hunger. “You’ve got an archer’s arms. Pretty sure you could lift me without too much effort if you can handle a bow in the heat of a battle.”
Lyney’s face prickled and tingled, and was his stomach doing a somersault? Oh, not quite, not quite. Just filled with the usual butterflies, then. “Can I just hold your hand instead? For now, that is. Let’s start small and work out way up to grander things—that’s how magic shows go, after all.”
“Are you saying we’re like magic together?” Childe’s grin widened, and his usually dim eyes seemed to sparkle. Oh, it was definitely one of his better days. “I like that a lot, Lyney.”
It was only a flirt, it was only a flirt, or that was how it was supposed to be. Lyney’s heart took it more seriously than that, though, and Father would be so disappointed to see him flounder like this.
Even so, Lyney offered his hand to Childe, who gladly took it.
And lifted it so he could brush his lips over the glove-covered knuckles, Childe’s back bent ever so slightly to give the impression of a bow all the while his eyes stared up into Lyney’s. His long scarf nearly kissed the pavement beneath them.
“Sorry,” Childe said. He didn’t sound very sorry at all. “I’m bad at taking things one step at a time.”
That didn’t surprise Lyney, and yet his face burned. He was used to being the one saying dazzling, flirtatious things, but receiving it was so different from offering.
With the cat still pushing itself against his legs, begging for his attention again, Lyney smiled at Childe and curled his fingers against the palm of the hand holding his. His heart felt light, the butterflies having reached there from his stomach. “Might as well take me out and see how many steps we end up skipping ahead.”
Childe perked up. “I’ll try not to disappoint! Just keep up with me, won’t you, Lyney?”
The unknown was almost always terrifying, and Lyney wasn’t immune from that fear. But, he thought as Childe put their hands down and entwined their fingers, at least he wouldn’t be alone in venturing forth and seeing what it had to offer.
That wasn’t so daunting, was it?