Vix was moving fast.
Suspiciously fast.
She weaved through the crowded town square like a shadow in daylight, her cloak barely fluttering behind her. Every few steps, she checked over her shoulder—first left, then right—oblivious to the two stalkers blending in with the foot traffic.
Ash and Poffin.
More specifically: Ash, walking calmly and quietly like a normal person, and Poffin—perched on his shoulder, twitching with barely-contained fury.
"She's going to do it," Poffin hissed, his fluff bristling.
"She's really gonna do it. She's going to hand over that box of whatever-the-hell-it-is to Kale and it's going to be a whole thing. Flowers. Feelings. Forbidden rogue-paladin love. Disgusting."
Ash gave him a tired look. "You're weirdly invested in this."
"No, I'm logically invested," Poffin snapped. "Do you have any idea how long this slow-burn nonsense takes? Twelve episodes minimum. That's three arcs of awkward glances and accidental hand touches! I say we stop this now, save everyone the trouble."
Poffin launched off his perch with intent, landing on the cobblestone path like a tiny, vengeful puffball missile. But before he could take a single step toward his rogue-shaped target, Ash scooped him up by the scruff.
"Don't."
"Let me interfere!"
"No."
"But I can fix this!"
"You are not playing rogue cupid."
"I could be a tragic third-wheel character with hidden depth?"
"Poffin."
"Okay but hear me out: what if I bite him so she feels protective—"
"Absolutely not."
Poffin flailed helplessly in Ash's grip, stubby limbs swinging with dramatic flair. "You can't stop love and chaos, Ash!"
"I can when it's less 'chaos' and 'sabotage'.'"
Ash tucked him under one arm like smuggling contraband marshmallows and resumed the stakeout, eyes trailing Vix's path. She'd stopped by a flower vendor now, visibly trying to pick between two identical-looking bouquets.
"...You think she'll go for the one with the purple ribbon?" Ash muttered.
"Not unless she wants to get rejected with style," Poffin huffed. "Red's more emotionally aggressive. Better odds."
Ash gave him a side glance. "You're surprisingly romantic for someone who once bit a guy for winking."
"He winked wrong."
They went silent again, the rogue now walking toward the nearby alley with the bouquet tucked under her cloak. Somewhere around the corner, Kale was waiting, oblivious, probably thinking about justice or carbs.
Ash shifted his stance slightly. "...We're not really going to interfere, right?"
They followed Vix down two winding alleys, past three suspiciously romantic merchant stalls, and through what might have been the fourth flower shop she'd visited that hour. At this point, Ash wasn't even being stealthy anymore—just trudging with the slow, resigned energy of someone walking into an unpaid internship.
Poffin, still being carried under his arm like a very angry luxury handbag, was visibly fuming.
"She's circling. She's looping! That's the third time she's passed that bakery."
"...That bakery does smell really good," Ash murmured.
"This is painful," Poffin gritted out. "This isn't plot development. This is emotional constipation in slow motion."
They both stopped near a market stall selling scented candles shaped like various fruits. Vix stood not far off, clutching the box she'd been carefully hiding—some shiny little parcel tied in red ribbon. She was now pacing nervously, clearly trying to build up the nerve to deliver it.
Poffin watched, teeth grinding.
Ash exhaled through his nose. Long. Deep. Soul-weary.
"Okay," he said, "we're doing it."
Poffin blinked. "Wait—what?"
Ash hoisted him up like a divine declaration. "We're cutting through the nonsense. I am not wasting three side quests' worth of time watching her orbit around the concept of 'feelings.' We're speed-running this subplot."
Poffin's mouth slowly curled into a grin. "You've come to the dark side."
"I've come to the efficient side."
He glanced toward the alley's far side, where Kale was casually loitering like a protagonist waiting for the story to catch up with him—leaning on a fence post, sword sheathed.
"She's going to miss him again," Poffin warned.
Ash rubbed his temples. "Fine."
Without another word, Ash peeled off from the post and strode toward Kale.
Poffin perked up. "Oh-ho. We're meddling elegantly. I like this."
Ash intercepted Kale casually, falling in step beside him.
"Hey," he said, tone light. "That vendor back there says your sword's enchanted wrong. Wants to see it."
Kale blinked. "What? Seriously? It's forged by Elvin steelsmiths—"
"Apparently not up to his standards," Ash shrugged. "Could be nothing."
Kale muttered something about people not respecting craftsmanship and turned, heading toward the suggested direction—which, by completely unrelated coincidence, happened to angle him directly across Vix's slow spiral.
Ash didn't stick around to see what happened next. He simply drifted back, scooping Poffin from his perch and walking the other way.
From a side street, they peered back in time to see Vix freeze mid-step. Her eyes went wide.
Kale was walking straight toward her.
Box clutched tighter, she panicked, turned away—then turned back, clearly at war with herself.
Finally, like a defusing bomb, she thrust the gift forward.
Kale blinked. "...For me?"
"Yes. No. Yes. Shut up."
Poffin observed from a distance, squinting. "Aaaaand there it is. Courtship is wild."
Ash gave a faint, victorious hum. "Mission complete."
"You're way too smug for someone who claims not to care."
Ash said nothing.
Poffin glanced at him. "...You do care."
Still no answer.
Poffin grinned. "You're a romantic."
Ash adjusted the puffball under his arm. "You're imagining things."
As they slipped back into the flow of the crowd, Poffin smiled to himself.
"You know, for someone who pretends to be all distant and aloof," he said, "you're basically the emotionally repressed love fairy."
Ash didn't dignify that with a response.
He just walked faster.
Kale blinked down at the oddly lumpy box in his hands, turning it once, twice, like it might start whispering hints.
"…So is this for some kind of training?" he asked, ever the curious golden retriever in human form.
Vix, standing stiff as a pole and clearly battling the urge to vanish into a puff of smoke, nodded. "Sure. Training."
"Oh wow!" Kale brightened. "Does it explode? Or summon something? Or is this one of those magical puzzles where if you open it wrong your soul gets sealed in a mirror dimension?"
Vix blinked. "It's a scarf, Kale."
He gasped. "...A disguise test! You're testing how well I can wear civilian gear without blowing my cover! Brilliant!"
From a rooftop, Ash and Poffin watched the scene unfold like spectators to a slow-motion social disaster.
"I'm going to commit arson," Poffin muttered.
"She's trying," Ash said, voice somewhere between pity and amusement. "He's just... Kale."
Down below, Kale wrapped the scarf—bright red, hand-stitched, clearly made with care—around his neck like he'd just found a loot drop.
"I love it! Thanks, Vix! You're always thinking ahead. Next time we go undercover, I'll wear this."
Vix made a noise that might've been a strangled laugh or a dying star. "...Yeah. For 'undercover'."
Kale gave her a thumbs up and walked off toward the others, cheerfully humming a hero's tune with a scarf flapping like a victory banner behind him.
Vix turned and started walking in the opposite direction, hands shoved in her pockets, muttering something about daggers and regrets.
Ash exhaled slowly. "Well."
"That was painful," Poffin added.
"On a scale of one to ten, that was emotionally catastrophic."
"I give it a seventeen and a half."
They climbed down from the roof.
"I suppose it could've been worse," Ash said.
"How?" Poffin asked. "The scarf could've caught fire?"
"Actually… yeah, probably that."
They rejoined the others down the road, where Lyra was trying to convince a fruit vendor that magic did in fact make apples taste better, Seren was writing in her journal, and Kale proudly showed off his new "training disguise."
"So stylish, right?" Kale grinned. "I bet even demons won't recognize me in this."
Poffin gave Ash the side eye so hard his fur puffed up. "He's serious. Ash. He's serious."
"I told you," Ash replied flatly. "Dense."
They walked on, the scarf flapping like a red flag of romantic failure, while behind them, Vix trailed just far enough to scream internally in peace.
As the emotionally scorched aftermath of Vix's failed confession settled into the cobblestones like the ghost of secondhand embarrassment, the group slowly began to regroup. Kale, still blissfully unaware, waved his scarf like a signal flag, declaring how it improved his stealth stat.
Ash remained where he was, hands in pockets, watching Vix silently scream into the nearest alley wall. And beside him, Poffin—now donning a pair of very suspiciously-acquired sunglasses—was nodding to himself like a scheming little mastermind.
"Progress," Poffin declared. "Tragic. Awkward. Painfully slow. But progress."
Ash glanced down. "She gave him a scarf and he thought it was tactical gear."
"And he wore it. In public. In front of people. That's commitment." Poffin struck a pose, dramatically adjusting the shades on his snout. "This is just the beginning. I see a bright future ahead."
"You didn't pay for those, did you."
"I paid in style."
"You bit the shopkeeper and ran, Poffin."
"They were holding me captive in a basket of discount accessories. I liberated myself."
Then, without waiting for a rebuttal, Poffin spun on his little heel and strutted off in the complete opposite direction of the group, tail high and victory in his step.
Ash watched him go, deadpan. "That's not even the direction we're going."
Poffin raised a paw without looking back. "Every great hero needs an exit walk."
"You're a foot tall."
"Legend-sized, baby."
Ash sighed and followed, half-expecting him to collide with a bread cart or get scooped up by a child mistaking him for a lost plush toy.
Still, even with the confession crash and the sunglasses felony, he had to admit…
It was kind of a win.
Sort of.
Maybe.
He'd take it.