Chapter Text
“So hear me out,” Franky began.
That never boded well. Twilight gave a long sigh and leaned back against the counter of his informant’s cigarette stand, planting his elbows behind him. And here he’d thought he could go home early to bake those cookies that Anya and Yor both liked. Anya needed a little extra motivation to study for exams. And it was important to keep Yor happy as well, lest she fall into another bout of insecurity about her value as a wife. Cover wife.
“There’s this girl.”
Twilight sighed again and made sure Franky heard it.
“I will ignore your rudeness and make you an offer to start with, how about that?” the informant said peevishly. At the spy’s silence, he went on. “Next job half off. Deal?”
“I’m listening.”
“So there’s this girl,” Franky resumed with enamored glee. “Veronica Valla. Platinum blonde, tall, amazing legs, gorgeous smile. She works Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at Mick’s until close. She’s single. I checked this time.”
Twilight suppressed another sigh at the pride in the man’s voice. Count on Franky to be proud of doing the bare minimum to ensure he wasn’t stalking a woman who was already spoken for.
“I want you to help me ask her out.”
After the last time he’d wasted an afternoon helping Franky get a date, Twilight had learned his lesson. His informant was hopeless when it came to romance. Better to circumvent his innate weaknesses altogether.
“Alright. Here’s my offer,” the spy said. “I’ll disguise myself as you and ask her out on your behalf. Then you take over. Voila.”
For a moment Franky was silent. Since Twilight’s back was turned, he couldn’t see if it was a silence of dismay and offense, or shock at such a foolproof idea. Well, it wasn’t exactly foolproof. Twilight was a full head taller than Franky; it’d be tricky to hide that. And Franky was still not what most women would find attractive, no matter how much Twilight might turn up the charm while wearing his face. And then there was the question of how Franky would handle the first date, bumbling around and stuttering, a complete 180 from the suave act he would have originally presented to her. The woman was bound to be confused and turn tail and run.
But that was for Franky to worry about. Twilight was only agreeing to help him ask the girl out. Whatever happened or didn’t happen on the first date was none of his concern.
“No.”
Twilight did turn around, then. He looked at his informant with one eyebrow raised in skepticism.
“What do you mean ‘no?’ You want to turn down a 78% chance of success and 53% reduction in wasted time for both of us?”
“78%?” Franky questioned. “You really think that if I learned to talk to women like you, I could have that high of a chance of getting a date? With a woman as gorgeous as Veronica?”
The man had gotten sidetracked. Again, not what Twilight had intended.
“Yes,” Twilight said impatiently. Usually he was scientific about calculating probabilities, but this time he really had pulled that particular number out of his ass. His informant didn’t need to know that, though. Let him have the little ego boost. “So why don’t we just go with my plan?”
“Because I don’t want that 78% to plummet to 0% as soon as I step into the picture,” Franky pointed out. “I want a plan that gives me success in the long haul. Teach a man to fish, if you will.”
“There are books for this. TV shows. Even acting classes to make you a better conversationalist and help you hide your nervous tics. Why waste my time?” Twilight said in exasperation.
“Because I’ve tried all the books and the TV shows and they don’t work! And no acting class is going to teach me better than you can! You’re not just a master actor. You literally act like your life depends on it!” Franky said emphatically.
It was a strange compliment to receive from his informant, but that was beside the point. Twilight had such little time as it was, time he needed to spend helping Anya study harder, to prepare for the endless side missions Sylvia had been throwing at him, to guide his child and wife in a surreptitious manner so that Plan B and Plan C remained viable.
“Next job’ll be free of charge!” Franky finally caved.
“Hold on, what is it you want me to do? Coach you on how to talk to women?” Twilight pressed.
“Yes. In disguise. Like you did with Monica.”
“Oh my God,” Twilight groaned. “You cannot be serious.”
“What? I thought you dressed as women all the time. And it didn’t take you that much time to put together that Monica disguise, either.”
“Excuse me, I get maybe one mission a year where I have to impersonate a woman! ‘All the time’ my ass. You make it sound like it’s a fetish.”
“...Is it not?”
He growled and walked away from the counter at a brisk pace.
“Hey! Hey!” Franky whisper-shouted frantically behind him.
A pack of cigarettes hit him between the shoulder blades, and he reluctantly stopped.
“I’m keeping these, as compensation for wasting my time just now,” Twilight said as he pocketed them. “And my answer is no. Monica was a one-time deal. I regret ever–”
“Two jobs free. Plus one night a week of free babysitting, as long as you keep coaching me on the regular.”
Twilight paused. “Make that two nights a week.”
Franky ground his teeth in resistance, but as soon as Twilight made to leave again, the informant gave in. “Okay! Okay, it’s a deal.”
“Tomorrow noon, lunch, corner cafe, same table,” Twilight said over his shoulder. “We’ll start with intensive prep for Veronica. Then it goes down to once a week. Got it?”
“Got it, sir, yes, sir!”
Twilight sighed deeply once more and finally left for home, feeling more defeated than he had in a while despite the fairly good deal he was getting in return. He had a lot of faith in his own skills, but when it came to Franky’s inability to talk to women, it might require a miracle even he couldn’t pull off.