Urien frowned. “Not...gold?”
“Humans use paper currency now,” Mabon said slowly. “And digital transfers. Numbers on screens.”
“That’s ridiculous. Paper isn’t a treasure. You can’t hoard paper.”
“Well, you can, but then they call it ‘hoarding,’ and it requires therapy, apparently.”
“So we give him paper money?” Rux’s voice climbed. “Just... hand him cash like we’re paying him for services rendered?”
“That makes it sound like prostitution.”
“Well, what else do we give him? A gift card?” Rux gestured wildly. “Do humans court with gift cards now? ‘Hello, our fated mate, please accept this plastic rectangle worth twenty currency units at the establishment of your choice’?”
Mabon pulled out his phone, typing rapidly. “There are... websites. For modern dating advice. I was looking at a few last night.”
“You’re consulting the internet, now?” Urien leaned over. “What does it say?”
“‘Ten Tips for a Great First Date.’” Mabon scrolled. “‘Be yourself. Ask questions. Don’t talk about your ex.’” He looked up. “Do we count as each other’s exes?”
“We’re currently in a relationship, so no.”
“What about the dragon I courted in 1647?”
“Nobody cares about your 1647 fling, Mabon.”
“She was a duchess.”
“She was also a dragon, which makes her irrelevant to courting our human Treasure, who doesn’t know dragons exist.”
Rux grabbed the phone. “What else does it say?”
“‘Compliment their appearance but don’t be creepy.’” Mabon reclaimed his phone. “How do we compliment without being creepy?”
“‘Your freckles make my heart stone glow’?”
“That’s extremely creepy.”
“‘I’ve been watching you make coffee, and you’re perfect at it’?”
“Also creepy, very creepy. That’s surveillance, Rux.”
“‘I want to add you to my hoard’?”
“VERY CREEPY!”
Urien dropped his head into his hands. “We’re doomed.”
Mabon kept scrolling, his frown deepening. “‘Don’t come on too strong.’ How strong is too strong? What’s the measurement?”
“I don’t think there’s a literal measurement…”
“‘Take it slow.’ How slow? What’s slow in human terms?” Mabon looked up, genuinely distressed. “We’ve been alive for centuries. Our slow might be their geological timescale.”
“Maybe we should just ask him out,” Urien tried.
“Ask him out where?”
“Dinner?”
