A Fox in the Hen House

The bell above the apothecary door chimed softly as Mr. Fox stepped inside, shaking droplets of rain from his shoulders. The scent of damp earth and herbs enveloped him, mingling with the faint trace of woodsmoke. His sharp eyes scanned the room—shelves laden with jars and bundles of dried plants, all meticulously arranged. But his focus was on the figure bent over the counter, her dark hair spilling like ink over her shoulders as she scribbled in a ledger.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth, laced with the kind of charm he’d honed over years. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Darcia glanced up, her golden eyes meeting his. For the briefest moment, a flicker of recognition crossed her face—gone so quickly he might have imagined it. She straightened, her tail swaying lazily behind her, and offered him a polite, if slightly bemused, smile.

“Not at all,” she said. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

Mr. Fox stepped closer, the faintest smirk curling his lips. “I was passing by and couldn’t resist stopping in. I’ve heard whispers about the remarkable apothecary with the equally remarkable proprietor.”

Her ears twitched, and her smile turned wry. “Is that so? Whispers, you say? I’d like to know who’s been spreading such tales.”

“Ah, a gentleman never reveals his sources,” he replied smoothly, leaning casually against the counter. “But I must say, they didn’t do you justice. Seeing you in person is... quite the revelation.”

Darcia arched a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Flattery already? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Mr. Fox,” he said, bowing slightly with a theatrical flourish. “At your service.”

“Mr. Fox,” she repeated, as though tasting the name. Her expression gave nothing away, though her eyes gleamed with a knowing light. “A pleasure. I’m Darcia.”

“A name as lovely as its owner,” he said, watching her reaction.

She chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re quite practiced at this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been accused of being charming once or twice,” he admitted with a grin. “But I assure you, every word is sincere.”

Darcia tilted her head, as though appraising him. “Well then, Mr. Fox, what brings you to my humble store? Surely not just to shower me with compliments.”

“Ah, but why not?” he said, leaning a little closer. “Though, if I must, I suppose I could buy something. What would you recommend for a weary traveler seeking solace?”

Her lips twitched as she turned toward the shelves, pretending to consider his question seriously. “Perhaps a tisane for relaxation, or a balm for sore muscles. Or,” she added, glancing over her shoulder, “a tincture for clarity of thought. You seem like someone who could use focus.”

“Touché,” he said, laughing. “But I think I’ll take all three. Who knows when I might need them?”

As she moved to collect the items, her movements graceful and unhurried, Mr. Fox found himself wandering the small store. His fingers trailed over the jars and bundles of herbs, his curiosity genuine despite his intentions.

“You keep this place immaculate,” he said as she returned to the counter.

“It’s a necessity,” Darcia replied, setting the parcels down. “If you’ve ever tried to sort dried basil from nettles in a hurry, you’d understand. Besides,” she added, her tone turning teasing, “you never know when someone might walk in looking to be impressed.”

“Oh, I’m thoroughly impressed,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with mock solemnity. “In fact, I might just have to make this a regular stop in my travels.”

“Regular?” she echoed, her brow lifting. “You must be a man of leisure, Mr. Fox, to have the time to wander into apothecaries and flirt with their proprietors.”

“Leisure isn’t quite the word,” he said, leaning forward on the counter. “Let’s call it... prioritizing.”

Darcia laughed, a rich sound that filled the small space. “You’ve got a talent for making nonsense sound meaningful, I’ll give you that.”

Their conversation drifted into lighter territory, Mr. Fox pulling more than a few smiles from her as he asked about the herbs and their uses. She indulged him, her explanations practical but punctuated with wry humor. Time passed unnoticed, the rain outside softening to a faint patter.

Eventually, Mr. Fox straightened, his expression growing thoughtful. He tapped his fingers lightly on the counter, as if weighing his next words.

“Darcia,” he said, his voice softening.

Her ears perked, and she tilted her head slightly, curious.

“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” he continued, his tone careful, almost reverent.

“That depends,” she replied, though her gaze didn’t waver. “What is it?”

He hesitated, the faintest flicker of nervousness crossing his face before he pushed forward. “Are you... seeing anyone?”

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the playful dynamic they’d shared. Darcia’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, though her tail stilled, her golden eyes searching his face as if measuring his intent.

Finally, her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Well,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of intrigue, “that’s quite a question, Mr. Fox. What makes you ask?”

He leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “Because I can’t imagine someone like you doesn’t have the whole world vying for your attention. And if they aren’t, well... then they’re fools.”

Darcia chuckled softly, her ears twitching as she considered his words. “You certainly know how to keep a conversation interesting,” she said, her voice warm but giving nothing away.

Mr. Fox smiled, content for the moment to let the conversation linger, the weight of his question still shimmering between them.
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Darcia’s smile didn’t falter, but her tail swayed deliberately, a sign of her growing amusement. “You know,” she began, her tone light, “if I were seeing someone, they might not appreciate you asking that question.”

Mr. Fox leaned on the counter, his grin unfazed. “Ah, but if you were, they’d have no reason to worry. I’d never dream of stealing someone else’s treasure. I’m just... confirming its availability.”

Her laughter was soft, a sound that made the small shop feel warmer. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But, as it happens, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Because I’d hate to think I was wasting all this charm on a lost cause.”

Darcia tilted her head, her golden eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. “You’re assuming that means I’m available.”

“Ah,” he said, pretending to look wounded, “so you’re saying there’s still a hurdle? Perhaps you’re secretly married to your work?”

“That’s one way to put it,” she said, leaning back against the counter, her arms crossed. “Running an apothecary doesn’t leave much time for frivolities.”

“Frivolities?” he repeated, feigning shock. “Surely you’re not calling love frivolous. What’s more medicinal than a good romance? I hear it’s great for the heart.”

Darcia chuckled, shaking her head. “You’ve always got an answer, don’t you? Fine. Let’s say it’s not just the work keeping me away from romance.”

“Ah,” Mr. Fox said, his grin widening. “A mystery. Let me guess—you’ve taken a sacred vow of solitude?”

“Not quite.” She smirked, her tail flicking behind her. “But it would be... complicated. Taboo, even.”

“Taboo?” he repeated, his brows arching as if the very idea intrigued him. “Now you have to tell me. I promise I won’t faint.”

Darcia shook her head, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “It’s not something I can explain to a stranger.”

“Stranger?” he said, pressing a hand to his chest as if mortally wounded. “Darcia, we’ve known each other for, what, twenty minutes now? I feel like I’ve bared my soul to you!”

“That must’ve been the abridged version,” she quipped, biting back a grin.

“Give me time,” he replied smoothly. “The full edition takes a lifetime.”

Darcia leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her voice dropped, as if sharing a secret. “You’d have to get through a lot of hurdles first, Mr. Fox. I’m not an easy conquest.”

“Good,” he said without missing a beat. “Easy conquests are dull. I’d much rather climb mountains—or, in your case, pull weeds.”

Her laughter spilled out, genuine and warm. “You’re relentless,” she said, shaking her head.

“I prefer ‘dedicated,’” he corrected with a wink.

Darcia tapped a finger against her chin, as if pondering. “You do realize that pursuing me could cause... complications?”

“Complications are my middle name,” he replied. “Well, not literally. But I’m very good at handling them.”

Her gaze lingered on him, the humor in her expression softening just enough to let a hint of something deeper slip through. “You might regret that attitude one day.”

“Not if it brings me closer to you,” he said, his voice quieter now, less playful but no less sincere.

Darcia exhaled, shaking her head as if to clear the moment. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still talking to me,” he pointed out. “That has to count for something.”

“It counts for you being very, very persistent,” she said, her tone mock-stern.

He straightened slightly, meeting her gaze head-on. “So, let me ask again, Darcia—are you single, or are you just testing my patience?”

She stared at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. Her ears flicked back briefly, her tail curling around her leg in an unspoken tell.

Finally, she let out a long sigh, her amusement betraying her words. “Fine. Yes, I’m single. But don’t think for a second that means anything.”

Mr. Fox’s grin returned, full of triumph and charm. “Oh, it means everything. Because now I know I’ve still got a chance.”

Darcia rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her. “You’re a handful.”

“Good thing you’ve got two,” he said, winking as he reached for his parcels.

Her laughter followed him as he moved to the counter’s edge, lingering as if daring her to stop him. “We’ll see if you’re worth the trouble,” she said at last, her voice light but her gaze steady, filled with a strange knowing.

“Worth it?” he said, turning back with a smirk. “Darcia, I promise—I’m nothing short of priceless.”

She laughed again, shaking her head as if he were the most absurd thing she’d ever encountered. “Taboo or not,” she murmured to herself, watching him, “you’re going to be trouble.”