In The Hunt of Love

The door to the apothecary creaked open, and Darcia looked up from her counter, her sharp eyes narrowing in amusement as Mr. Fox strode in with his usual flourish. His top hat tipped slightly askew, his smile dazzling. The faint scent of rain clung to him, and he made a show of shaking it off like a dog would, earning a smirk from Darcia.

“I’m here to see your brother,” he began smoothly, with a bow that bordered on theatrical.

“No,” Darcia said flatly, her tone casual as she returned to stirring a pot of some unholy green concoction.

Mr. Fox blinked, momentarily thrown off his rhythm. “No?”

“No,” she repeated, this time dragging the vowel out like a cat stretching in the sun.

“But—”

“No.”

“I haven’t even asked yet!” he protested, leaning on the counter.

“Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no.”

He chuckled, undeterred. “You’re quick with that, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had years of practice,” she quipped, her grin playful but sharp enough to cut.

Mr. Fox pressed a hand to his heart in mock despair. “Surely, you can’t be serious. I’ve traveled far, risked the rain, and sacrificed my best pair of boots for this moment! All to meet your illustrious brother.”

Darcia raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“Now, hold on,” Mr. Fox leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Aren’t you even curious why I’m so desperate to meet him?”

She tapped her chin, pretending to ponder the question. “No.”

“I’m gay,” he declared suddenly, his smile unfaltering. “And hopelessly in love with him.”

Darcia froze, her stirring spoon pausing mid-air. For a moment, the room was silent save for the bubbling of the pot. Then, slowly, she set the spoon down, turned to face him fully, and crossed her arms.

“You’re gay?” she asked, her tone neutral, but her eyes glinting with something darker.

“Hopelessly,” he replied, undeterred. “Head over heels. Smack-dab in the throes of infatuation. A poet’s dream of romance.”

Darcia tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “And you think you’re good enough for him?”

The words were light, almost playful, but there was an edge to them that made Mr. Fox’s smile falter ever so slightly. “I’d like to think so,” he replied carefully.

She took a step closer, her grin fading into something sharper, more calculating. “My brother is... delicate. Fragile, even. Do you know what that means?”

“I do,” he said earnestly, meeting her gaze without flinching.

“Do you know what he’s been through? What I’ve done to keep him safe?” Her voice was low now, like a warning.

“I can only imagine,” he replied. “But I’d like to understand. To help.”

Darcia’s smile returned, but it was colder now, her eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of someone peeling apart a puzzle. “You’re charming, I’ll give you that. But charm only goes so far. Tell me, Mr. Fox, how far are you willing to go for my brother?”

“As far as it takes,” he said without hesitation.

Her grin widened, and for a moment, it looked as though she might laugh. But instead, she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Then prove it. Tomorrow, you’ll charm me instead. Make me believe you’re worthy of being my brother-in-law.”

Mr. Fox blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Wait, what?”

“If you want my blessing, you’ll earn it,” she said simply, stepping back and waving him toward the door. “Think it over, Mr. Fox. Impress me. Convince me. After all, if you marry my brother, you’re marrying me too... in a way.”

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a theatrical bow, his smile returning. “Challenge accepted.”

Darcia smirked as he left, her eyes glinting with amusement and something darker. For all his charm and confidence, he was stepping into her web now. But as the door closed behind him, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. She had studied him.