PATRIARCH FOWL
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Casual Heroing, Chapter 117
🕑 Added 2023-05-26 09:23:40 +0000 UTCRead-y Link (Mobile Optimized Reader)
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Chapter 117 – Date Day, Part 2
The wine is pretty good.
The situation is pretty bad.
But I’ll let you in on a secret.
In the same way a woman can talk herself out of stuff, she can also talk herself into stuff. If a woman is undecided, it’s mostly because she doesn’t know whether to take the decision or not. She knows what decision she’ll be taking. You just have to get it out of her.
How?
Listen, be attentive, and see if there’s a chance for you to get to know her better. It doesn’t always work, obviously. It’s not a pick-up technique. It’s just about listening to the true intentions of a woman.
“What’s the biggest worry on your mind?” I ask Irene.
Simple, straight to the point.
“Sorry?”
“The biggest worry. What’s the main thing that bothers you about this?” I move a finger between us.
“Joey, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, please. I am not offended by it. I just want to know what’s on your mind. Don’t be afraid of hurting my feelings. The smooth guy over there who cannot even look me in the eye had to ask if a Human could walk in here. I can take some hate. I just don’t like pity.”
She’s taken aback.
Good.
“You are right. I will not treat you like an idiot,” she says.
“Thank you,” I give my simple reply with a sweet smile.
“I am not sure this can work. Human and Elf, I mean. My family won’t like it that much—well, my younger brother, at least.”
Sucks to be him, I think to myself. Yeah, I’m a bit snappy, okay? I’m trying really hard not to, but it is what it is.
“Your family seems very important to you. I don’t plan on driving a wedge between you and them.”
“And how would you deal with someone close to me hating you?” She scoffs.
The fact that she is the one getting angry at this makes me a bit upset. But I get it. She’s frustrated.
We both are.
“Kindness? Show them I care about you? Wait—you know what? That’s stupid. I don’t know your family. I would simply listen to you. That would be my best option.”
Her ears wiggle a little at that.
That is so damn cute. Also, what else can I make wiggle like that?
“You are not an idiot, at least,” she sighs to herself.
Oh, baby. I think I just scored a goal!
“Well. What else bothers you?”
Irene bites her lower lip and takes a swig from the glass.
I look at the chalices they gave us and smile smugly to myself when I notice that the ones I have at home are actually nicer.
What? Can’t hate a little on the hater? Get good, buddy. Get money, and get big—beautiful women to respect. Yes.
“Even if you somehow got on the right side of my family, you are worth your weight in gold—rotten roots, more! Camilla would bankrupt the place just to work with you!”
“Listen, Irene,” I say with a deadly serious tone. “I think there’s something extremely important to consider about this.”
She straightens up at my words and looks all serious and composed.
“What is it?”
“You know how much people value me and how good I’m at baking, right?”
She nods, and her eyelashes flutter as she blinks repeatedly.
“Yes?”
I look around conspiratorially and hunch forward a bit, prompting her to do the same. Lowering my voice, I let her in on a big secret.
“I’m even better in bed.”
I straighten up and look around, faux-making sure that no one heard me.
She looks at me with a stunned look on her face.
So, friends, this is the moment where she either throws her glass of wine at me and walks out of the place or invites me into her life.
This is how you do it. She’s already chosen, right? Give her an opportunity to walk out. If she doesn’t, great sign. A hat trick, basically.
“You…” She is at a loss for words.
I sip the wine, puckering my lips and making appreciative sounds. “Very good wine,” I give her my wink-with-tongue-click.
She puts both her hands on the table.
“I can’t believe it.”
Shit. Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to swear.
This might be taking a turn for the worse.
Well, there are many eligible bachelorettes. Just gotta find myself a magic mirror now.
“I can’t believe how I can still like you when you are so stupid,” she sighs, and her face softens. “Joey, are you sure about this?”
HELL YES!
“I would be honored, milady,” I say, bowing my head.
At that moment, they bring us the food. It’s a big plate with some roasted meat and all the side dishes Irene ordered.
…
“What have you been up to?” Irene asks in a more relaxed tone as we chew on the delicious meat.
“I think I’ve figured out some basic enchanting to help with the bread-making. The city needs so much bread it’s insane anyone would try and make it by hand.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I said; there are too many bread requests and not enough [Bakers]. The solution is not to induct any more [Bakers] into spending all their time working the dough. You need a machine for that.”
“Machine? Like something an [Engineer] would build? Wait, did Happy Bakery hire any Goblins?”
“What? No. No Goblins, unless you consider me one,” I wink at her. “I made a prototype that kneads the dough by itself without any help. It just consumes Mana.”
“Oh, I see. Clodia must be spending like crazy on Mana Stones.”
She’s not, I think to myself. But you don’t really need to know that.
I don’t want to be mean, but Irene is the competition. I like Camilla too, but it doesn’t mean I’m just going to roll over with my best secrets.
Hell, not even Happy Bakery has gotten the best out of what I could have given them. My mother would have had my scalp if I just gave away everything for free.
Plus, even the bread mixer is something only I can make. The Rune is relatively simple in its nature, but it works on the principles I’ve personally discovered. If you can’t replicate the First Cantrip in the exact way I cast it, it’ll be impossible for you to draw my rune.
“Yeah, Clodia is a bit upset about the whole thing. But trust me, she’ll see the benefits in the long term.”
“Are you going to tell her about Camilla?” She asks.
“About the proposal? Not for now. The logistics involved in such a merger would be a nightmare.”
“So, you are really considering it,” Irene takes a sip of wine and looks interested in me. “If you could somehow have those two collaborate, I’d believe you could do anything.”
“Tempting offer,” I say, taking another bite. “Good stuff, by the way,” I point with my fork at the roast. “Could have used some proper braising, though. The taste of this kind of beef is great, but it’s a tougher cut. Cooking it for longer and adding some red wine would have done the trick.”
As soon as I finish the sentence, I see the [Waiter] appear by our table.
“Is everything okay, Sir?”
Oh, the guy must have some skill to detect complaints.
I’m half-tempted to tell him that this fancy restaurant could use a proper [Cook] instead of whatever buffoon is in the kitchen, but I’m not in the mood for ruining this date.
Biting my tongue, I smile at him. “No, no. All good. You can go.”
The [Waiter] turns his eyes to Irene, who nods at him.
“Alright. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
After he’s walked away, Irene snorts. “You really upset him.”
“I hope I did,” I give her another wink of mine.
“Can I ask who apprenticed you? You know, baking recipes, techniques, and even a [Chef]’s cooking. I haven’t really noticed the thing about this meat, but it does make sense. Who taught you all this?”
I stare into the glass of wine for a second, thinking about Lorenzo and all the marvelous people he introduced me to.
“I learned from a great guy. He taught me a lot. And most importantly, he introduced me to other chefs. I hopped back and forth between several kitchens. I was in charge of the desserts for the most part, but I’ve moonlighted as a proper chef at times.”
“Wait, where do you come from? You said you were not from Teiko.”
“I did. I come from… very far away. I don’t like talking about it. My past is behind me, and I like it that way.”
Irene looks at me with curious eyes but doesn’t say anything in return.
“A toast, then. To the future,” she says, raising her glass.
“To the future,” I smile warmly at her, “may it be magical.”
Comments
Timothy simpson
Since he made a crappy sex joke and the date isn't over I withhold my judgment of the lack of canolli.
