(Crack fic. You have been warned.)

Taric's Matchmaking Service

::-::

"Taric's Matchmaking Service, how can we help?"

"Hello? I have a request regarding a certain guy I know..."

Ah... Another tedious day of cases with brainless boys, needy girls, and overall monotony. When could Taric find something interesting...?

"You see, I would like to request to not be matchmade with someone making an upcoming call. His name will be Ezreal."

Taric felt his left eyebrow disappear into his hairline. "Oh? What might prompt such an unusual request, Miss...?"

"Crownguard. Lux Crownguard." The voice on the other end of the line paused. "He annoys me. He acts like a little kid and he won't stop flirting! I'll send you my account number. Take out as much as you require."

Beep.

Taric set the phone down, grinning widely. It looked as if today would not be so boring after all...

::-::

"Please, Mr. Taric! You must help me! She is the love of my life!"

Taric settled back on his chair. "And what is the lucky woman's name, pray tell?"

"Ahri. A more beautiful creature I never did see..."

"Number four hundred and ninety seven."

"Pardon?"

Taric glanced up from his records. "Ah—you see, Miss Ahri is a very popular request. You are on the wait list in position four hundred and ninety seven."

"B-but I... I..."

"Good day. I shall call you if the other four hundred and ninety six people have given up."

Beep.

::-::

"Hello, I'd like to not be matchmade with someone making an upcoming call. Her name is Lux, Luxanna Crownguard."

This time, both of Taric's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"And what might prompt such a request, Mr...?"

"Ezreal." Yep, it was the same fellow. "I know it's weird, but I need it. She's such an airhead! It drives me crazy! And don't even get me started on how she laughs…" Ezreal took a deep breath to calm himself down. "…I'll send you my account number. Use whatever you need."

Beep.

Taric lowered the phone, feeling the grin on his face growing. He'd give them five—no, four—months before they completely and irrevocably fell for each other.

Young ones these days, he thought.

::-::

"Hello," Taric said. "Please hold for a moment; I am currently negotiating with another client. It will be but a short wait."

But before Taric could switch lines, he heard a maniacal screech come through his phone.

"A short wait? Was that a short joke?!"

Taric did not even need to ask the name of this one.

"Oh, Mr. Veigar. I... didn't think you would actually call." During one of his rare trips to Noxus, Taric had happened to run into the demented little yordle. Feeling sorry for his utter lack of relationships, romantic or otherwise, Taric had given him a business card in the hopes that even the insane terror would find his match.

"Just what are you implying?" Veigar screeched.

This would turn ugly, fast. "Ah, never mind me, Mr. Veigar," Taric said, attempting to keep his voice as soothing—without be patronizing—as possible. "I assume you called me in regards to some matters of import?"

Silence.

That was a very strange and frightening thing from someone such as Veigar.

"Did I assume wrong...?" Taric tried.

"I—I—Is that a squirrel? No! Away! Away, you fiend, and back to your master—"

Beep.

Somehow, Taric had a feeling that he knew just who had caught Veigar's eye...

::-::

"Hello—Mr. Rammus? I believe you are a previous client of Taric's Matchmaking Service, and as such, I would like to ask you a few questions about your experience."

"Ok."

"Thank you. First—how was the quality of service you received?"

"...Ok."

"I... I'm sorry to hear that. Pray tell, what could make it 'good' or 'excellent?'"

"..."

"Er... Right. Next question: How is your current relationship with the lady you are with?"

"Ok."

"...Right. And how much did TMS affect that relationship?"

"...Ok."

"I will... take that as a moderate amount. And finally, do you have any further comments regarding your experience?"

"...Yeah."

"Oh?"

"Why did you pair me with a fish? I am not even aquatic. I can't go in the water and she can't get out. We have no similar interests, and thus will remain friendly acquaintances, but will become nothing more. In addition, there is no chemistry between us. We do not even share any mutual friends. I am disappointed with the judgements made by TMS and would like to request a refund. I will call later for details. Thank you."

Beep.

...And Taric was frozen, clutching the phone, unable to do anything in his shock that the monosyllabic armordillo had actually talked.

::-::

"Hello, Taric's Matchmaking—"

"I would like to revise my previous request."

It didn't take more than a moment for Taric to recognize the voice. "Luxanna Crownguard?"

"Yes." She sounded curt, but Taric could tell that she felt quite embarrassed.

"And what might cause this sudden change of heart...?"

"N-nothing," Lux said, quite hurriedly. "I mean, basically, if Ez really wants to go for me, let him. I mean, I'm not waiting for him to make a move, it's just—just that—I mean, if he requests help when it comes to me, you don't need to refuse him anymore. Just… just don't tell him anything about this!"

Beep.

It had been three months. Taric would give her one more to fall in love with this Ezreal fellow.

::-::

"Hey, this is Ezreal. I'd like to change something…"

Taric grinned. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I was thinking… you know, it's kind of mean to automatically reject someone who might like you, right? And you don't even give them a chance..."

Taric waited patiently for Ezreal to get to the point.

"B-basically, if Lux ever gives you a call, you don't have to reject her anymore. It seems kinda mean... That is, if she's actually interested. Not like I'm interested in her, but if... I just..."

Ezreal fumbled for more words. Taric decided to take pity on him.

"You would like to retract your previous request?"

"Yeah," Ezreal said, sounding quite relieved. "Yeah, that's what I meant."

"Very well," Taric said. Then he decided to have a little fun. "I must warn you, though; if you're expecting a call, I might not be so sure..."

"W-what does that mean?" Ezreal said, suddenly sounding a lot more panicked.

"Well—I must preserve client confidentiality, you understand; but I may have received a call concerning Lux Crownguard..." May have was the key word here, but Ezreal didn't have to know that.

"From who?" Ezreal said, attempting to sound calm and failing.

"That is of little consequence," Taric said placidly.

"Wait—but why would—I thought—"

"I am sorry, Mr. Ezreal. My job prevents me from saying more. Good day, and come again if you have another proposition."

Beep.

And Taric sat back and cackled.

::-::

Taric had never heard of such a request before.

"Allow me to get this straight, Mr. Draven," he said, slowly and deliberately. "You wish to enlist our services to matchmake yourself… with yourself."

"Got a problem with that?" the scratchy voice over the phone said.

"Well, to be honest, yes. Several," Taric said. "For one—where exactly will you find this other self of yours? If one does not exist, then we must look into how to clone a person—something that has been attempted many times before with brilliant researchers, and never done. That alone brings up all sorts of issues—funding, time, morals—"

"Heh. I guess you speak some sense." Draven chuckled into the phone. "After all, you can't recreate perfection."

Taric slammed his palm against his forehead.

::-::

"Why did the fish cross the street?"

...

"To get to the other tide. Heh."

Taric restrained the urge to smash himself on the head with his own mallet. It wasn't his head's fault, after all, that it had to hear such atrocious jokes; it was this woman's fault for driving away his business by spewing endless streams of tasteless humor outside his door.

"What do doctors call patients that want to cover themselves with gold?"

...

"...People with a gilt complex."

...

"Heh. Heheh."

...This would have to be done with a very delicate hand, should Taric want to preserve the deteriorating remains of his brain cells.

"Look, um, Miss Diana, I understand that you wish to advertise your showmanship—but mightn't it be better to do it someplace with a little more prominence than my simple office?"

"You know what I like to call people like you? Humorless."

"Rest assured, Miss Diana, that while I hold your, er, talents in the utmost regard, it is also important that—"

"You obviously need another joke."

"Well, you see, I don't think I quite—"

"What's bright and far away and fuzzy?"

...

"The sun."

...

"I lied about it being fuzzy."

...

"Heh. Heheheh."

Taric winced. This was going to be a very, very long phone call.

::-::

"Um... Hello? Mr. Taric?"

Taric checked his calendar. One month, on the dot. "Yes, Ms. Lux," he said, trying to keep his voice as level as possible—a difficult feat, as he felt his mind squealing with girlish glee.

"This is Lux. Oh, wait. You already knew that..."

Taric waited. Patiently.

"Um... So Ez and I just wanted to let you know—"

"Mr. Ezreal?"

"H-huh? Oh, yeah… We kinda… worked stuff out. Like, we get along pretty well now."

"She means that we're dating," came a faraway voice.

"E-Ez!"

Taric felt his lips crawling up into a smile. "Oh?"

"Well—yes," Lux said, a bit abashedly. "Basically, we talked it out… and I guess we had a lot more in common than we originally thought."

"She means that she fell in love with my devilishly handsome looks," Ezreal said.

"Devilish, yes. Handsome, I'm not so sure," Lux said teasingly, evoking a yelp of protest from him.

"Well, I am very glad to hear that things worked out for the both of you," Taric said with a smile. "I wish you good fortune."

He thought that they would hang up then—but strangely enough, they stayed on the line.

"Um—so—we just thought you should know," Lux said in a rather small voice.

Taric felt his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Know...?"

"That we're together now," Lux blurted. "Since, um, you know, you helped us and all."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," Taric said, keeping his face completely straight. "Have a good day."

It was only after he hung up when he allowed himself to grin like a fool.

::-::

"Hello—Miss Lulu? This is Taric from Taric's Matchmaking Serivces. I am calling on the account of a matter of import that—"

"Hi! I always knew rocks could talk."

Taric blinked. Once. Twice. "Er… sorry?"

"Don't worry," Lulu said reassuringly. "Pix is good at keeping secrets."

Taric struggled to understand what she was saying. "You… think I'm a rock?"

"I don't think you're a rock, I know you're a rock!" Lulu said brightly, "but Pix thinks you're a squirrel."

Utterly bewildered, Taric decided to shrug it off and simply move on.

"So, Miss Lulu—while I find this conversation, er, mentally stimulating, I'm afraid I must progress with business affairs."

"That's what all the orchids say. That's why nobody likes orchids."

Taric backwheeled for a second, caught by whiplash from the sudden change of topic. He was beginning to get the feeling that he and this yordle were speaking completely different languages…

"Have you received the appointment request from my offices?" Taric asked, shaking off his disquiet.

"Yup," Lulu said. Finally, a straight answer. "It tasted purple."

Taric felt his eyebrow twitching. "You… ate it?"

"Well, it wasn't going to eat itself!"

The absolute bizarreness of it all was setting Taric at his limit. "I see," he said uncertainly. "And… what exactly does purple taste like?"

Lulu giggled. "It tastes like red and blue, silly!"

Yes, well… that wasn't exactly helpful.

"Anyway," Taric said, "are you available at the time and date specified in the appointment request?" Although he was beginning to have second thoughts on unleashing this terror, even on someone as… unique… as Veigar.

"Hmm, probably! Even if the grass tries to keep me away, I'll just walk around it."

Taric tried to make some sound that was a vague form of assent and immediately hung up.

Never again, he told himself. Never again.

::-::

But only a few weeks passed before Taric's curiosity got the better of him.

What exactly does purple taste like?

This question plagued him night and day until he finally decided that he must embark upon an epic adventure posthaste.

Sadly, purple didn't taste nearly as delightful as Lulu had made it sound.

::-::

A number of months later, Taric received a rather interesting item in the mail.

"Mr. and Mrs. Crownguard and Mr. and Mrs. Estenfeld request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their children Luxanna Crownguard and Ezreal Estenfeld..."

Taric grinned and flipped the invitation over. Attached was a note that read as follows:

Hi Taric,

This wouldn't have been possible without you. Thank you.

Sincerely, Lux and Ez

Well… He really didn't do all that much for them, besides nudging Ezreal in the right direction that one call. But, well, if they really wanted him to come, who was he to refuse?

::-::

Taric expected the wedding to be small. Small, charming, poignant.

He did not expect half of Valoran to be there, nor the site of the wedding to be the League's battlefield. Even Noxians were there. Noxians! Didn't Ezreal and Luxanna despise Noxians?

As Taric dropped off his wedding gift to the happy couple, he inquired into the reason as to why there were Noxians in attendance. Lux only gave a deep, dramatic sigh, tugged him closer, and said:

"My brother has this huuuuge crush on Katarina. And she wouldn't come without a few of her friends."

Taric blinked. "But… isn't this your wedding?"

"Yeah, but…" Lux gestured around the Rift. "Our parents invited so many people already that we figured they'd fit in anyway."

CRASH!

"Eyaaaaaah! W-what are you doing?!"

"MUNDO WILL GO WHERE HE PLEASES!"

Taric stared at Lux. Lux stared at Taric.

"The idea seemed much better at the time," Lux said.

"I'm sure," Taric said.

::-::

Business settled down after that wedding. Taric found his clientele returning to the usual hotheaded teenagers. It was unfortunate, but only to be expected; many of his former clients had met their match.

Taric heard of Garen and Katarina, finally courting after "six months of nothing but making excuses and beating around the bush," according to Lux. He gave them three years before their wedding; there was much political strain on them, but their feelings were true and their commitment would last.

Taric heard of Lulu and Veigar, neither of whom he envied. He predicted that they would never have an official wedding, since they seemed to be happy in their own little world anyway. (Eventually they did have one, and Taric was the only invitee. Well, discounting the rows of rocks and furry animals that Lulu brought.)

Taric heard of Draven, who apparently married himself to a large mirror which he set up in the center of his abode. (But those were only rumors.)

To say the least, it wasn't long before the call came.

It was a nondescript day in the midst of a nondescript week, with nondescript weather affecting Taric's nondescript workplace. But the moment Taric picked up the phone and heard a soothing, roiling voice with an accent the likes of which he had never heard, he knew that his life would change forever.

"Hello, Mr. Taric. I am High Summoner Mimse from the League of Legends. We have heard about your extraordinary company and your unique talents and would like to make a proposition..."

Taric smiled.

His matchmaking abilities on the Fields of Justice? It would be truly outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous.

But that was just how Taric liked it.