Dancing With Fire - Chapter 12
#12 of Dancing With Fire Act 1 - The Kindling Ignites
Harper paced back and forth in his office. An antique mirror he'd dug out of the attic now stood in one corner. He came to a stop in front of it, the latest of many times, and faced his reflection.
"Once more, from the top," he said to himself, then cleared his throat. He shot his reflection the most charming smile he could muster and started again.
"Hello Blitzø!" he frowned at himself in the mirror, "No, too casual. Hmm, what about...Good day, Blitzø! Bah, now that's too formal." The Overlord had just returned to pacing when Drek poked his head into the room.
"Sir, are you still practicing what you are going to say to him???" asked the imp.
The dragon demon sighed, shoulders slumped in embarrassment. "I'm afraid so, Drek. As I told you, I haven't courted anyone since I met my wife over 150 years ago." He held up a finger before the imp could respond, "and those men and women I have tried 'hooking up with,' do not count. The rules were completely different then."
Drek leaned against the door frame with a bemused expression. "Be that as it may, Mr. Harper, you are overthinking this. I won't tell you that it's easy, but it is simple enough. You could call or text him."
Harper shook his head. "No, that doesn't feel right. I'm painfully aware times have changed since I last dated, but for my own sake I must confess that I fancy him in person. That is why I intend to visit Blitzø at his office at 3 pm. I've reviewed his schedule, and he should be alone then. We will have all the privacy we need."
The imp considered this for a moment. "That could work. But my point still stands that you are overthinking how you are going to tell him. Meaning no disrespect, but Blitzø is crude, blunt, and unrefined. He would likely appreciate if you dispensed with idle pleasantries and got straight to the point."
The Overlord stroked his chin in thought. "You really think bluntness is the answer here? It goes against everything I've learned in business and through socialization."
"And that's precisely the problem," Drek interjected, "You lived over a century ago, and you normally only socialize with the elites. Blitzø is neither old-fashioned nor upper-class. Think about the vulgar language he freely uses around you. Is an imp like that going to care about etiquette?"
With one final sigh, Harper pushed the mirror aside and walked over to the door. "Perhaps you are right. I am overthinking this. But I don't want to make a fool of myself either. I am an Overlord, and while image is not as important to me as those prigs in the noble caste, I don't want to appear weak by bungling a request for a date with an imp, either."
His worrying was interrupted by a small hand gripping his wrist. Satisfied he had Harper's attention, Drek continued. "Sir, you only need to make sure you tell Blitzø three things." He let go of Harper's wrist to count them off on his claws. "First, tell him that you have feelings for him beyond that of friendship. Second, express your desire to take your relationship to the next level. Third, if Blitzø accepts, extend that invitation to the outing you've been planning."
The dragon had crouched to eye level while his valet laid out what he needed to do. He nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose you're right," he said, "I need to 'wing it,' so to speak." He shuffled the ones on his back. "No pun intended, of course."
Drek only chuckled and patted Harper's shoulder. "You'll do fine, sir. If you, in your own words, could get 'the most beautiful woman in the Living World' to marry you, I know you can get Blitzø to go on a date with you."
The Overlord smiled back at the imp. "Thank you, Drek. I'm well aware of your own feelings regarding Blitzø, and I appreciate you have my back regardless."
The valet nodded, then stepped back. Harper stood and straightened out his suit. "I suppose I should make sure the floral arrangement is in order before I leave," he stated, then walked out of the office to head downstairs.
Drek chuckled again, then shook his head as he followed the dragon demon out. "Of course the old fool prepared flowers," he muttered in amusement, "What am I going to do with him?"
Despite his valet's assurances, Harper worried on the whole drive over to I.M.P. Every few minutes he looked to the bouquet of carefully arranged flowers and tasteful ceramic vase clutched in the bony links of his tail. Harper quietly cursed the fact that he'd left his flower dictionary in his office. How else would he double check everything in there was appropriate?
For what must have been the hundredth time, he reached over to alter the arrangement. It had to convey everything he felt while remaining aesthetically appealing. Never mind that it would fly completely over Blitzø's head; this was important to him, dammit! Besides, even if Blitzø didn't understand the meaning, an Overlord like Harper had to be at his best when courting a lady - or gentleman, in this case.
He had just enough time to run a comb through his gelled black hair one final time as his limo pulled into the parking lot. The draconic demon slipped out of the backseat, then hesitated at the front doors. The hesitation lasted only a moment, lest someone see him balk.
Harper's hesitation came back in full force as he approached the door leading into I.M.P.'s rented space. He stopped and stared at the crude signage on the door. It was a door he had passed through many times now. So why did his arm feel like it was made of lead every time he tried to reach for the handle?
He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and started to walk back toward the elevator. Realizing what he was doing, he turned again and returned to the door...only to start to walk away again.
You can do this, Harper, he thought, You only need check in at the desk and wait for Blitzø to come out. Then ask him for a date. He reached for the door handle again. Open the door and walk inside. Ask to see Blitzø. Do it. Do it! What are you waiting for, you pathetic coward? Go inside!
With a loud growl of frustration, Harper nearly wrenched the handle of the door loose as he burst through it. The Hellhound behind the front desk yelped and dove for cover.
The Overlord took a moment to compose himself, then surveyed the room. "Miss Loona?" he called.
Loona cautiously peeked over her desk. "Holy shit, Mr. Harper," she breathed, "You almost gave me a fucking heart attack."
"I apologize for my, er, enthusiastic entrance," Harper replied, "The door seems to have stuck."
The hellhound nodded as she gingerly slipped back in her seat. "Yeah I know what you mean. Fucking thing's warped. We've told the lameasses who run the building to fix it, but they don't give a shit." Over the past several weeks, Loona had been slipping back into her natural way of speaking around Harper. He took that to mean she was getting more comfortable around him. That was progress!
Now, on to the matter at hand. "Is your father available?" Harper regretted the phrasing when he saw the way Loona tensed at those words.
"Yeah, he's here," she replied, avoiding eye contact, "Think he's in the middle of something though. Can you wait a few minutes?"
Harper spread his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "I've cleared my afternoon to see him; I can certainly wait." Then, he stepped closer to the desk. For all the progress that had been made, the young Hellhound still shrank back from the computer as he approached. That was when she noticed the bouquet clutched in his tail. Her red and white eyes widened.
"No way," she said, "Are those flowers for who I think?"
A quiet sigh of relief left Harper's lips. Anything to dispel the tension. "Ah, you've caught me red-handed, Miss Loona," he said, "Your fa-I mean, Blitzø and I have grown close these past few months. It felt appropriate that we make things official. Do you know what I mean?"
The shock drained from Loona's face, which became unreadable. "Uh huh," she flatly said, then went back to browsing the computer. Even so, her posture remained rigid, and the fur on her tail bristled. So much for friendly conversation while they waited.
Harper contented himself with visiting the eel tank while he passed the time. The eels didn't seem to pay him much mind, but they were fun to watch. He could tell there were more of them in the tank, as well as lots of new plants and even a big sunken castle for them to play in. The dragon wasn't surprised that at least some of the extra revenue I.M.P. was enjoying was being invested in his pets.
Minutes felt like hours to Harper. His tail swished impatiently (though he took care to keep a firm grasp on the flowers). Occasionally he would hear someone moving around inside Blitzø's office, with the occasional loud thud and a muffled "Shit!" Blitzø was probably trying to rearrange everything again, but Harper respected his privacy too much to investigate.
Just as Harper was about to reconsider his stance on privacy and go knock on the imp's door, he heard a doorknob turn. "Ah, finally!" he said as he straightened up and turned around. But it wasn't Blitzø's door that had opened, but the front door. The Overlord froze as a lanky, well-dressed owl demon ducked past the threshold.
"Ah! Good afternoon, Loona!" chirped Stolas, "I trust you are well?"
"Uh, y-yeah," stammered Loona, who had gone just as rigid as Harper. "I take it you're here to see Blitzø?"
Stolas chuckled. "Indeed I am! Dear Blitzy hasn't answered any of my calls or texts, and I simply had to drop by to make sure he was okay. I also assumed he wouldn't mind if I brought the grimoire earlier than usual while I was at it." The Prince of Hell looked around the office. His gaze inevitably came to rest on the dragon demon by the eel tank. Harper had remained perfectly still at this point. Why? He didn't know. It wasn't like Stolas could only perceive movement.
The office grew deathly quiet as the two powerful rivals locked eyes. Harper squared his shoulders and took a few steps forward. "Prince Stolas," he simply said.
"Lord Harper," Stolas responded, "What a pleasant surprise."