FLUFFCEMBER: Hello! If it's still available, may I request Day 1. Mittens with Ace where he takes the reader shopping for winter clothes in Foothill Town? Thank you!
Ah, esteemed patron!
You have slipped in just as the kitchen doors were closing! A "last-minute" reservation for the very first course? How exciting! The Manager is happy to squeeze this order onto the ticket rail.
You have reserved Day 1: Mittens, featuring our favorite energetic card soldier, Monsieur Ace Trappola.
A shopping date in Foothill Town is the perfect setting for Ace. He loves an excuse to get off campus, he has opinions on fashion, and he absolutely loves teasing his partner while simultaneously taking care of them.
The kitchen has prepared this Manager's Specialty Pasta to kick off the event! We do hope this meal is to your satisfaction.
Serving: Mittons
"Are you kidding me? You're actually shivering. You look like a leaf in a blender."
Ace Trappola let out a dramatic, exasperated sigh, the puff of white breath vanishing into the frigid air of Foothill Town. He stopped walking, turning to look at you. You were indeed shivering, huddled into a coat that was decidedly not rated for the sudden drop in temperature.
"I thought it would be warmer!" you defended, your teeth chattering slightly.
"Yeah, well, you thought wrong. Come on."
He didn't ask. He just grabbed your arm and steered you sharply to the left, pushing open the door to a brightly lit clothing shop. The bell chimed, and a wave of warm air hit you instantly.
"We are not leaving until you are properly equipped," Ace declared, marching you toward the winter accessories aisle. "I am not dragging a frozen popsicle back to the dorm. Riddle would have my head for 'improper escorting' or something."
For the next twenty minutes, Ace was in his element. He was surprisingly good at shopping. He held up scarves ("Too itchy"), hats ("Makes your head look weird"), and coats ("Okay, this one is decent, try it on").
He was critical, loud, and having a great time treating you like his personal dress-up doll.
"Okay, hands," he demanded finally.
You held out your hands. They were red and freezing.
"Yikes," Ace grimaced, touching your fingers with his own warm hand. "Ice cubes. Serious ice cubes. You need the heavy artillery."
He scanned the rack and pulled down a pair of thick, fluffy, bright red mittens. They were a bit childish, maybe a bit too big, but they looked incredibly warm.
"Try these," he said, shoving them at you.
You pulled them on. They were lined with fleece. The warmth was instant. You wiggled your thumbs.
"Well?" Ace asked, leaning against the rack, a smirk playing on his lips. "Verdict?"
"They're warm," you admitted, smiling. "But I can't really use my fingers."
"That's the point, genius. Keeps the heat in."
He paid for them (insisting, "Don't worry about it, you can buy me a drink at the cafe later"), and you headed back out into the cold.
The wind bit at your face, but your hands were toasty in the new red mittens. You walked side-by-side toward the bus stop.
Suddenly, you felt a tug.
Ace had reached out and grabbed your mitten-covered hand.
"A-Ace?"
"Shut up," he muttered, looking steadfastly ahead, though the tips of his ears were turning pink. "It's slippery. I don't want you falling over and ruining the new gear."
He squeezed your hand. Even through the thick wool of the mitten, you could feel the firm, reassuring grip of his hand. He wasn't letting go.
You squeezed back.
" warm enough?" he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, that smirk softening into a genuine, boyish smile.
"Yeah," you said, swinging your joined hands slightly. "Warm enough."
"Good," Ace chuckled. "Now come on. I'm starving."
A "dish" served with style, warmth, and a classic Ace Trappola attitude! The kitchen is delighted to confirm your reservation for the opening day.
