The Bar Gathering
The cozy little tavern smelled of roasted meat, spiced cider, and Edward's ever-present smugness.
Ember and Bug sat at the bar, sipping new drinks—Ember trying a honey-wine, Bug dunked halfway into a tiny glass of something fizzy.
At the far end, Nyxar lifted his glass of juice. He drank it in deliberate, stoic gulps… and for once, he didn't choke, sputter, or glare at the flavor.
Edward leaned on the counter, smirk plastered across his face.
"So, how've y'all been? Nyxar's looking a little less like a swamp monster today."
Bug perked up. "Yeah, Ember gave him a bath. And clothes!"
Bath Confessions
Edward froze, then slooowly turned toward Ember with a grin that promised endless teasing.
"…Bath. Clothes."
Ember raised both hands frantically. "Wait, no—it's not what you think!"
Bug, entirely unhelpful, continued, "Yup! She also dressed him. Cave boy didn't know how to wear pants. Or scrub. Or—"
"BUG!" Ember nearly fell off her stool, her cheeks redder than the coals in Edward's fireplace.
Edward just polished a glass, the grin of a man about to live forever off this blackmail shining bright.
The Receptionist Enters
The door swung open. The guild receptionist walked in, still in uniform, and Edward greeted her warmly. She took the seat right beside Ember.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked.
"Nope, not at all!" Ember replied, seizing the opportunity to derail the embarrassing bath conversation.
Edward poured her a drink. She lifted it, took one sip… and spotted Bug sipping his fizzy concoction. She blinked.
"…Am I already drunk?"
Bug waved. "Sup."
Receptionist froze. "…Am I on drugs? Did that bug just—"
"—talk? Yup," Ember said with forced cheer. "That's Bug. He's… nice."
The receptionist downed her drink in one gulp. "Okay. Weird. Anyway—Ember, it's been a while since I visited your place. How's it holding up?"
Ember remembered the carnage of last night's pillow war: feathers in the rafters, spirit throwing pillows like cannonballs, Bug shrieking war cries. She forced a smile.
"Uh… a bit of a mess."
The receptionist waved it off. "Of course! Living alone, keeping things clean, it's tough."
Bug ruined it immediately. "We live with her, tho."
Ember hissed. "Shut. Up. Bug."
Bomb Dropped
Edward raised a brow. "We?"
Bug, utterly guileless: "Yeah, me and Nyxar."
Both Edward and the receptionist nearly fell out of their chairs.
"YOU AND NYXAR?!"
Edward slapped the counter, laughing. "So, Ember and Nyxar are living together, alone, with no parental observation?"
Bug cheerfully: "Yup."
Ember: "Wait—it's not like that!" She flailed, turning redder by the second.
The receptionist, suddenly very sober, slammed her glass down. "Absolutely not. You cannot live alone with a boy!"
Edward snorted. "Oh, come on. They're young. Let them be. Let them have some fun."
"Edward!" Ember nearly strangled him with her scarf. "It's not like that!"
Misunderstanding of Doom
The receptionist stood and marched straight to Nyxar, who was still quietly drinking juice like none of this mattered.
"HEY, BOY!" she snapped.
Nyxar turned, eyes locking on her with his usual unnervingly calm stare.
She grabbed his tunic. "If you touch a single hair on her head, I. Will. End. You."
The bar went dead silent.
Nyxar's scarlet iris glowed faintly. His jaw tightened. His hand twitched toward summoning.
Bug froze mid-sip. "Oh crap. She's dead."
Ember panicked: "WAIT—NO—MISUNDERSTANDING!"
Nyxar muttered, low and dangerous: "Threat."
Spirit Language Negotiations
Bug zipped up to Nyxar's ear and hissed in their private spirit-tongue.
"Chill, man. That wasn't a real threat. Humans say dumb stuff like that. It's a thing."
Nyxar's narrowed eyes lingered on the receptionist, but after a long, terrifying moment, he exhaled and lowered his hand.
"…Fine."
Bug patted his head like he wasn't a murder machine. "Good boy. Proud of you."
Ember's Explaining Nightmare
Meanwhile, Ember tried desperately to calm Edward and the receptionist.
"It's not like that, I swear! He doesn't even—he barely even knows what a shirt is! We're not—! He's—! We—!"
Edward leaned back, smirk weaponized. "Suuuure, Ember. Just roommates. With bath privileges."
Receptionist crossed her arms, glaring at Nyxar like she'd still fight him despite nearly exploding earlier.
And in the corner, Nyxar just sipped his juice, utterly unfazed, as though murder threats and romantic misunderstandings were just another Tuesday.