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“It’s okay to be nervous, Vik.”
The hall was well lit and glowing, lamplight reflecting from the marble floors and gold-tipped balustrades. Socialites wandered among scattered tables layered with delicate foods, some eventually coming to stand at the towering statues in the centre of the hall.
A gorgeous place to hold an event. This one was more or less a fundraiser, a night for persuading possible investors to support the academy going forward.
Naturally, Viktor had to attend. And Jayce, the wonderful friend he was, had offered his company for the night, which Viktor had accepted (hoping to leave the extrovert of the two to tackle the conversation so he could slip away unnoticed).
Naturally, you were here as well. You were a student, though you were probably the same age as Viktor if not older, one of the finest the academy had to offer. Of course, you’d be in attendance; you were, for want of a better word, a bargaining chip. The investors would want to see what they were putting their money into.
And if he were Jayce, he’d probably go over to you. Strike up small talk, get you laughing, perhaps invite you on a little outing, just the two of you.
But Viktor was Viktor, standing with his face half in his drink and trying to hide, and Jayce was Jayce, trying to neg him into talking to you.
“I am not ‘nervous.’” Viktor cut back, but the look Jayce gave him was enough indication that he wasn’t buying it.
Viktor snuck a glance at you: next to a table, happily talking to your fellow students between bites of hors d’oeuvres.
“I just… do not wish to make a fool of myself.”
“You won’t, Vik,” Jayce said, “she’s probably just as nervous as you.”
“It is easy for you to say that. You are much better at this sort of thing than I am.”
“Practice makes perfect! You weren’t born with your scientific skill, were you?”
Viktor was about to rebut with the fact that if a baby was to be born with his level of intelligence, that child would be an incredible prodigy and would bypass the need for practice at all, but Jayce interrupted him with a nudge on his arm.
“Hey, look!” Jayce said, and Viktor turned in your direction: the little group around you had dispersed, leaving you standing alone.
“Now’s your chance, Vik,” Jayce said with a gentle prod and a thumbs up, “go get ‘er!”
Viktor spluttered his protests, but Jayce had already walked off somewhere else.
I’m going to have a talk with him later, he thought, pulling himself into a more comfortable position on his cane.
The walk over to you couldn’t be more embarrassing for him. Walking itself wasn’t an embarrassing act, the logical part of his mind knew that, but something about how slow he moved with the shuffle of his lame leg, and the subtle feeling he always felt of eyes on him made the act mortifying.
The warmth of the smile you gave him once he was at your side (a respectful distance away, of course) almost made it worth it.
“Oh! Hello, sir,” you said with a certain sweetness to your tone that made Viktor feel fuzzy and extending your hand, which he shook, “it’s nice to see you.”
“You as well,” Viktor replied.
The formalities were for a reason. He was the assistant to the dean; you were a student. But it felt too impersonal; he wished he could just hear you call him by his name instead of bothering with titles.
“How’s your night been?” You asked.
“Eh, it’s been alright.”
“Same,” you replied, “I’ve spent more of it talking than I have, y’know, partying. The food is good though!”
“Then we must be having very similar nights. Though I must admit, I have not tried the food yet.”
Your eyes lit up, “well nobody’s stopping you! They have some really good hummus.”
A little bit of his amusement came out in a soft chuckle, and he took a cursory look over the different trays of food before choosing one of the hummus’: A light cream coloured one, flecked with red as an indication of its spiciness.
It was good.
“Didn’t pin you as the spicy kind of guy.” You spoke.
He smiled before taking another bite, “I enjoy it from time to time. Strong flavours like that have never especially effected me.”
And then your expression changed to a surprisingly nervous one, a little furrow in your brows and your arms drawn in ever-so-slightly.
“Sorry if this is too forward, but I know a great restaurant that makes a killer spiced curry. If you wanted, I could take you there some time?”
Viktor almost spat out his cracker in surprise but caught himself, instead doubling awkward and spluttering awkwardly as the food got caught in his throat.
(At the very least, he could excuse the sudden red flush on the choking.)
“Oh shit, are you alright? Sir?”
He waved a hand at you to dismiss your worries, though the croak of his voice once he spoke probably did not dissuade your concern.
“Y-yes, thank you,” he tried to laugh it off, “apologies, you caught me off guard.”
Your smile was polite as always, “if that was out of line, I understand.”
“Oh no, not at all. I’d love to go to dinner with you.”
And that polite smile turned, once again, genuinely happy, “that’s great!”
You were about to continue, but someone from across the room caught your eye and waved you over. “Sorry, sir, I’ve gotta go. It was wonderful seeing you, though!”
“Same to you. And please, call me Viktor.”
It felt like sunshine when you spoke again. “Well, Viktor, I’ll see you for dinner.”
Even when you’d walked off, he still couldn’t shake that fuzzy-happy feeling in his heart. And later, when Jayce gave him a celebratory clap on the back and teased him about it until he had to kick him out of his office, he couldn’t shake it.
And, in truth? He didn’t want too.