The Clever Plan
Tilfa-Korilfa stood at the door, shivering visibly, his face all smiles.
"Little One! Hello!" Larria knelt down to hug him but drew back suddenly. "You're all wet!" she exclaimed.
"I know, but look!" said Tilfa-Korilfa dauntlessly. His trembling hand lifted a string of freshly taken Black Sole. "I just caught them in Qufim. Aren't they wonderful? I can catch them now."
"That's fantastic! I'm very proud of you, and they're beautiful fish. But look at you. You're wet and freezing!" Larria shook her head, clucking her tongue.
"I was fishing on the north shore, near the tower. The wind blows the sea spray up pretty hard there, but it's good fishing," he said proudly through teeth that refused to stop chattering.
"Sweetie, it's the middle of winter. What ever were you thinking? You could have frozen to death out there."
"I know, but I was just too excited to stop. I'm going to go put these up at auction now and then I'll warm up."
Larria sighed. "Go list your fish and come right back here. I'll help you warm up."
"All right. I will."
And Tilfa-Korilfa did just that, grinning from ear to ear, skipping off to the auction house to transfer his catch into the hands of eager buyers. And skipping back to Larria's mog house, she snatched him up in the hall and carried him inside to where a tub of warm bathwater waited for him. "Now get out of those clothes and into the tub," she ordered.
"Yow! What?"
"The water's not hot enough to burn, and I put it by the fire so you stay warm. Now undress and get in. It will warm you up the fastest, and I'll be adding more hot water as you adjust."
"But...all my clothes?"
"Of course all your clothes. Underwear too."
"But I'll be naked." This was not part of the plan, at least not yet.
"Of course you'll be naked." She started to pull at his wet things. "I've seen plenty of naked Tarutarus. Don't worry about me."
"I'm a man though," he stated, trying to sound strong and reliable, drawing himself up tall, the top of his head reaching to her waist.
"She smiled sweetly at him. "To me you're a little boy. Besides, you're so cold right now I don't think there's anything to look at anyway."
The proud shoulders fell. Defeated and deflated, Tilfa stripped off and climbed into the bathtub, not sure whether to feel ashamed or depressed or loved or what. "Little boy," he muttered under his breath. How humiliating. The clever plan—catch the fish, show up at her place cold and wet, impress her with the fish, get taken in, get wrapped up in a warm blanket, produce the bottle of rolanberry wine, spend the rest of the afternoon snuggling and snogging in front of the fireplace—had backfired.
She had called him a little boy, decided there was nothing underneath his clothes to be concerned about, and was now deftly scrubbing "the fishy smell" off of his hands with a stiff brush.
Tilfa sighed and let it go at that, his clever plan in ruins. No wonder they all had described her as "the linkshell mom."
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FFXI and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of SquareEnix. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.