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Library, Sunday

During his re-shelving this morning Face had found the most amazingly trashy book. There were a bunch of place names and terms he didn't quite recognise, but that was hardly unusual, and he could always ask Cassandra for help where armour and weapons were concerned, which would be an adventure in and of itself, but the but the prose was the kind of ridiculous, fast paced kind that was so very readable.

Not to mention there were pictures, which were worth a thousand words, really.

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On the one hand, in theory, Cassandra was fond of grand romantic gestures, and this was certainly dramatic.

On the other hand, she was a warrior, and someone had just vaulted over an object at her without warning.

He was not getting punched.

"Maker!"

He was, however, going to get flipped and shoved down against the floor in a stellar display of reflexive non-thinking.

At least Face's point about the dubious romanticism of these gestures outside of fiction was proved.

Still for a teenage boy, getting pinned to the floor by a pretty girl counted a win. "I am surprisingly okay with this turn of events," he commented, because he was him.

"Ugh," Cassandra grunted.

She hauled him back up off the floor a moment later. "Maker's breath, what were you doing?"

Being manhandled like this was also something Face was surprisingly okay with.

"Well, I was trying for this," he said, leaning in for a second attempt at kissing her.

...much less dramatically this time.

One day, while Galyan laid on the ground and took repeated punches to the face because he tried hitting on Cassandra while they were tied up together in the midst of a crisis, he was going to be terribly envious that Face had only gotten manhandled.

Especially since Cassandra was stunned enough that, this time around, she was letting Face kiss her.

Punches were still on the table, though.

Face and Galyan would get along scarily well, all things considered.

He was well aware punching was still on the table, which was why he was aiming for the chaster side of romantic with the kiss, sweet and soft.

Face was not the only one with a type. Charming, noble fools with questionable survival instincts. Mmm.

Cassandra relaxed without realizing she was doing so, her hand winding up somewhere on the counter. For stability. Or something.

Which was apparently necessary, as once she truly understood what was happening, she took a clumsy half-step back and nearly tripped over her own feet.

And great senses of humour, couldn't forget that.

Face reached out to help steady her, and refrained from saying anything about sweeping girls off their feet.

Even though he really, really wanted to.

"You--"

Use your words, Cassie.

"You were serious."

Yes, he'd only been saying that about five times now. Don't sound so surprised.

Face was not stupid enough to chuckle at that. Out loud.

"Well, yes."

"Well. I. What? You can't."

So maybe punching was off the table. For the moment.

Face was sure that if he'd just be himself, she'd be back in punching form soon enough.

"Why not?" Face asked, not for the first time today. "Just because I'm naturally charming, I don't go kissing people for no reason."

Because she was brutish and stubborn and--

Maker, she was repeating herself, was she not? Cassandra shut up for a second as she studied him, wide-eyed.

"You are such a paragon of humility," she muttered at last.

Because he'd shown such a distaste for stubborn women thus far...

"I know," Face replied cheerfully. "It's one of my many virtues."

Cassandra let out a disgusted sigh. "It's-- all right," she said, rubbing her forehead. "...You should at least do this properly."

"Okay," Face said, as serious as he ever got. "What counts as doing it properly?"

Since they probably had very different definitions of that. Also his non-PR-mandated experience was...limited.

Cassandra was a Seeker (...in training) of the Chantry. She was a warrior. She came from a long line of dragon hunters.

She would not falter in the face of discussing romance with a boy. She would not.

"It," she said.

She stared down at the blasphemous book she had forgotten about in the confusion. "...Not that," she said, when she realized that might give the wrong impression. "I. Like romance," she said. "...You know this."

"I know," Face said. "But what's romantic in fiction, and in real life...differs."

He was pretty sure Cassandra didn't want to go though all the trials the shieldmaiden did.

Cassandra let out a sigh, and suddenly desired that wall again something fierce.

"I would call it courtship, but you would accuse me of attempting to instigate a life-long companionship. Which I am not," she hastened to add. "I... I'd like a date."

She was going red again. Fantastic.

He wouldn't accuse her of that, mostly because they'd already had this argument, and 'courtship' at least gave him a place to start researching.

"I'd like that too," he said, instead. "How about dinner? Maybe Friday?" ~~Because his player wasn't quite mean enough to suggest Saturday.~~

"All right," Cassandra said.

She was fidgeting. She was aware. "That is... yes."

"Great," Face said, smiling. "You have any preferences on where we eat?"

"No, not particularly," she said. "I have never tried any of them before."

And she kind of wanted him to choose. Shh.

"How about Il Pollo?" Face suggested. "Pizza Planet's good for a night in, but not really for going out." And unlike Cafe Fina, they'd had never employed magical cutlery, something which might have derailed the evening.

Yes. That might have ended... poorly.

"Il Pollo, then," Cassandra echoed (even if she didn't pronounce that entirely right). "I... Yes. I will see you there this Friday."

Many training dummies would perish before that day.

Library, Sunday

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