The Neon Moon buzzed louder than usual that evening.
Laughter spilled across the restaurant while servers hurried between packed tables carrying trays overloaded with food and drinks. Lanternlight reflected warmly across polished wood while the smell of roasted meat and rich sauces drifted through the crowded room.
At the Vixens' table—
suspicion had begun.
"He has to be here somewhere," Bunny insisted while peeking toward the kitchen doors again.
Nyxian inhaled slowly.
"Oh, this is definitely his cooking."
Zee smiled softly.
"He did say he had business tonight."
Llandra frowned thoughtfully.
"What kind of business happens during dinner hours?"
Nyxian leaned back smugly.
"The profitable kind."
Still—
all four occasionally glanced toward the kitchen expecting Jax to emerge dramatically at any moment.
He never did.
Meanwhile—
across Solmere—
Brannic arrived at the theater twenty minutes early.
Which immediately irritated him.
"Damn fool thing," he muttered while adjusting the collar of the stiff formal jacket he almost never wore.
The theater itself looked far nicer than he remembered.
Warm lanterns.
Red banners.
Elegant music drifting through the halls.
Not the crowded noisy disaster he'd expected.
An usher greeted him politely and guided him upstairs toward the private balcony suites.
Brannic entered cautiously.
Then stopped.
"…What in forgefire?"
The suite was absurdly expensive.
Velvet curtains.
Private balcony seating.
Polished table.
Crystal glasses.
And sitting directly at the center—
a bottle of dwarven reserve mead.
The GOOD kind.
Brannic picked it up slowly.
Read the etched dwarven lettering.
Then groaned.
"…That manipulative bastard."
He already knew who arranged this.
The dwarf poured himself a careful drink before settling stiffly into one of the seats.
The lights dimmed moments later.
Then footsteps approached.
Merriweather floated into the suite humming happily—
before freezing midair.
"Oh no."
Brannic sighed deeply.
"Of all people."
She pointed accusingly.
"You're the surprise?"
"I was invited too."
"Well this explains the expensive mead."
Merriweather turned dramatically toward the exit.
"I refuse to be emotionally ambushed tonight."
Before she could leave, one of the ushers stepped politely into the doorway.
"I'm terribly sorry, miss, but all other suites are currently occupied."
That was absolutely a lie.
The theater had maybe thirty guests total.
Merriweather narrowed her eyes immediately.
"…He planned this."
The usher smiled professionally.
Then handed both of them sealed envelopes.
Brannic opened his first.
Merriweather opened hers immediately afterward.
Inside sat identical handwritten notes.
Urgent business pulled me away tonight. Please enjoy the performance, drinks, and balcony suite on me. We'll speak tomorrow. — J.D.
Merriweather slowly lowered the note.
"Oh, this was EXTREMELY intentional."
Brannic took a long drink.
"I knew it the second I saw the bottle."
The play began moments later before either could fully escape the situation.
Merriweather folded her arms stubbornly.
Brannic drank.
The actors launched into an elaborate fantasy comedy involving:
mistaken identities
fake nobility
magical disasters
and one deeply incompetent wizard
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Merriweather squinted slightly toward the stage.
Brannic noticed immediately.
A few moments later, he quietly waved over one of the ushers.
Merriweather tried VERY hard not to eavesdrop.
She failed completely.
The usher disappeared briefly before returning with a delicate pair of enchanted spectacles resting on a velvet cloth.
"For the lady."
Merriweather blinked.
"Oh!"
The usher politely gestured toward Brannic.
Her expression softened immediately.
"…That was thoughtful."
Brannic grunted awkwardly.
"Well. Ye were squinting."
She slowly slipped the enchanted lenses on—
then gasped quietly.
"Oh my."
The stage sharpened instantly.
Colors deepened.
Fine magical illusion details became visible.
Theatrical enchantments she hadn't even realized existed suddenly glimmered beautifully throughout the performance.
"The illusion stitching…" she whispered softly. "This is gorgeous."
Brannic glanced sideways toward her reaction.
And despite himself—
felt oddly satisfied.
A few minutes later another usher quietly arrived carrying snacks.
Fresh bread.
Sweet pastries.
Candied nuts.
Brannic gestured vaguely.
"Figured ye might want somethin'."
Merriweather smiled warmly.
"Thank you."
The dwarf nodded once before immediately pretending to focus VERY hard on the stage.
Progress.
Small progress.
Back at the Neon Moon—
the Vixens' suspicion had evolved into active investigation.
The kitchen doors opened again.
Llandra looked up immediately.
Not Jax.
Just another server.
Nyxian narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
"…Interesting."
Bunny's ears twitched nervously.
"Where do you think he actually is?"
Zee hesitated slightly.
"…Do you think he's on another date?"
Silence fell across the table.
A dangerous silence.
Llandra immediately shifted into analytical mode.
"Where exactly did you two go today?"
Bunny blinked.
"…What?"
"Your outing."
Bunny suddenly looked alarmed.
"We just walked around town!"
Nyxian pointed accusingly.
"Details."
Bunny squirmed slightly.
"We did shopping…"
"Continue."
"…We played with some kids…"
"Continue."
"…We stopped by the theater…"
Nyxian froze.
Then slowly lowered her drink.
"…The theater."
Bunny nodded carefully.
"We bought two private suite tickets."
Nyxian's expression immediately changed.
"Oh no."
Llandra frowned.
"What?"
Nyxian pointed dramatically.
"He's at the theater."
Bunny's stomach dropped slightly.
The thought shouldn't have bothered her.
But somehow—
it did.
Had their kiss been awkward?
Did he regret it?
Was he spending tonight with someone else?
Nyxian suddenly smirked.
"…Wait."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Oh that sneaky bastard."
Back at the theater—
the bottle of dwarven mead was already half empty.
The play had improved considerably.
Or maybe the alcohol had.
Possibly both.
One actor completely missed his cue during the second act.
Another improvised wildly.
Merriweather burst into laughter immediately.
Then—
Brannic snorted loudly before catching himself.
Merriweather turned slowly.
"…Did you just laugh?"
"No."
"You absolutely did."
"It was the mead."
"The mead made ye laugh?"
"Went down wrong."
Merriweather grinned knowingly.
The dwarf looked away stubbornly.
But the tension had already changed.
Not awkward anymore.
Comfortable.
By intermission they'd started talking naturally between scenes.
Magic.
Craftsmanship.
Enchantment theory.
Metal composition.
They argued twice.
Agreed three times.
And slowly discovered something deeply inconvenient:
they actually respected each other.
By the final act, Brannic leaned comfortably back in his chair nursing the last of the mead while Merriweather laughed openly beside him during the comedy scenes.
When the final curtain closed—
neither moved immediately.
Merriweather looked toward him carefully.
"…This wasn't terrible."
Brannic grunted.
"…Aye."
Then after a small pause:
"The glasses suited ye."
Merriweather blinked softly.
Then smiled.
"…Thank you."
And somewhere else in Solmere—
Jax Darquebane sat quietly alone beneath the lantern lights outside a closed bakery.
Smiling slightly to himself.
Because sometimes—
people didn't need grand gestures.
They just needed:
the right environment
the right moment
and the right seat beside someone willing to stay.