SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 494: Little Celebration [II]

Moments after the laughter subsided and the dishes began flowing in earnest, Trafalgar grasped his glass.

That simple move gradually silenced the table.

He scanned the group once more before he spoke. Aubrelle sat next to him, more composed than she'd been in days. Mayla appeared at ease for once, not serving or hovering behind him, simply joining them. Cynthia froze in place, Bartholomew focused more intently than he'd prefer, Xavier reclined with curiosity, and even Vivienne, who still seemed a bit uneasy, no longer acted as if the ground might swallow her.

Trafalgar swept his eyes over them again, then uttered, "Thanks for coming."

Cynthia blinked. "That’s surprisingly normal."

Trafalgar brushed her off.

"This beats yesterday," he went on. "By a lot, to be frank. Yesterday hardly counted as a celebration. This does." His fingers tapped gently on the glass. "So... savor the meal, avoid brawls, and let's pretend to be civilized for one evening."

Mayla smiled first. Aubrelle dipped her head a touch, though her smiling lips betrayed her. Xavier chuckled briefly. Cynthia shook her head, as if bracing for something duller yet landing on something more mortifying.

Bartholomew paused briefly before lifting his glass. "T-to the celebration."

"To the celebration," Mayla repeated.

The rest joined in, glasses rising sequentially until the modest toast spread a cozy glow across the table—the exact vibe Aubrelle had craved from the beginning.

Then chatter picked up once more.

Dishes arrived, plates moved around, voices overlapped without turning chaotic. Aubrelle chatted more freely with those nearby than at any moment during the wedding. Mayla lingered near, relaxed enough to just soak it in. Vivienne listened more than talked, but she no longer seemed like an outsider.

Trafalgar allowed it to unfold for some time before sliding his chair back.

"I’m going to the bathroom."

Xavier glanced up immediately. "Perfect. Me too."

Trafalgar eyed him warily right away.

Xavier rose smoothly, fixing his scarf as if it were utterly routine.

Without another word, they both left the table side by side.

They'd gone only halfway along the hallway when Xavier broke the silence.

"I need help, Traf."

Trafalgar shot him a sidelong look. "With what?"

Xavier laid it bare without pretense. "I think I like Vivienne."

Trafalgar halted.

For an instant, he simply stared.

"What?"

Xavier stopped as well, utterly earnest despite the ridiculous timing. "Yeah. I think so. So help me out with it."

Trafalgar eyed him a beat longer, then resumed walking. "Let me get this straight. You like Vivienne. The Vivienne who deceived you, exploited your name, and faked being your sister when she hardly knew you."

"See?" Xavier jumped in instantly, matching his stride. "I knew you'd grasp it spot on."

Trafalgar shot him a deadpan glare. "That's not what I meant."

"Close enough."

A few steps later, Xavier dropped his voice a notch. "So? Give me advice."

Trafalgar seemed more irked by the request than the admission. "Why me?"

Xavier gawked as if it were plain to anyone sensible. "Come on. Don't play dumb. You just wed Aubrelle, whom half the academy swooned over once, you've got Mayla, and I'm betting a tiny wink from you would line up even more admirers."

Trafalgar's face grew stonier by the moment. "Who do you take me for?"

Xavier gestured broadly with one hand. "Trafalgar du Morgain. A total babe-magnet, like it or lump it."

Trafalgar appeared genuinely affronted. "Excuse me?"

"Dead serious," Xavier insisted. "And with the latest buzz, you'll be swarmed even harder soon."

Trafalgar exhaled softly via his nostrils. "You're spouting rubbish."

Xavier grinned. "Am I? From my view, you know full well none stand a shot unless you actually give a damn."

That prompted Trafalgar to look his way again, with more respect than irritation this time.

"...You know me better than I figured."

"I do," Xavier replied smugly. "That's why I'm hitting you up. So share something practical. Got any special tricks?"

They arrived at the bathroom entrance.

Trafalgar pushed the door open and replied without glancing back. "Live."

Xavier gaped in astonishment. "I'm gonna flip. Fine, pardon me for not matching the mighty Trafalgar du Morgain."

Trafalgar lathered his hands leisurely before responding. "Quit your griping. Just act natural."

Xavier met his eyes in the mirror. "That's awfully broad."

"I'll simplify it." Trafalgar dried off and faced him. "Don't overdo it. Don't smother her. Don't play the fool. She's shy around folks already. Push too much, and you'll freak her out."

Xavier pondered briefly. "So, do zilch."

"Didn't say that."

"You ruled out overdoing, smothering, fooling around. Leaves me slim pickings."

For the first time away from the table, Trafalgar's lip twitched faintly. "Maybe that's a win for you."

Xavier huffed deeply. "You suck at helping."

"Helped plenty."

"Whatever. Hoard your enigmatic ways."

"No ways exist."

"Worse yet."

Soon after, they wrapped up and returned to the table, Xavier seeming somewhat buoyed yet mostly cursed—which Trafalgar deemed the ideal mindset for him.

Just shy of the table, Trafalgar added,

"And quit ogling her that way."

Xavier peered sideways. "What way?"

"Like a creep."

Xavier's features hardened instantly. "I'm not creeping."

Trafalgar pressed on. "Then fake normalcy better. Want her? Speak up."

Xavier grumbled what sounded like a curse under his breath, but by table's edge, he'd schooled his face into what he figured passed for casual.

It didn't.

Trafalgar spotted it at once.

The meal had progressed in their absence. Plates shuffled, some glasses drained further, talk splintering into intimate clusters. Aubrelle beamed subtly at the night's flow. Mayla chilled more, tuning into one of Aubrelle’s pals while clocking Trafalgar's return. Cynthia peeked up, sized them both, and instantly sussed the hallway drama.

Xavier reclaimed his seat.

Not too near.

Merely positioned for a clearer Vivienne view without seeming blatant.

Which screamed obvious.

Vivienne caught on quick. Her gaze flicked his way once, twice, and Xavier averted his too slowly each time. Subtle for most, but not all.

Rhosyn clocked it.

Cynthia too.

Vivienne fought to focus on the group, but her eyes strayed to Xavier periodically before she yanked them away. Xavier botched his nonchalance equally.

Eventually, Rhosyn sipped deliberately from her glass and drawled, "If you two keep eyeing each other like that, one of you must speak up eventually."

Vivienne almost sputtered her drink.

Xavier froze briefly, then salvaged what poise remained. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Yeah, sure..." Rhosyn drawled.

Cynthia snickered softly, and even Zafira’s lips quirked before dropping to her plate.

Dinner wound down by then. Plates near bare, banter freer, the table bathed in that gentle ease born when guards fully dropped.

Trafalgar surveyed it all once.

Aubrelle glowed softly. Mayla eased further. Bartholomew loosened to chat sans doom-march vibes. Xavier posed his headache. Vivienne, against odds, blended in.

That made the evening worthwhile.

Later, Mayla edged toward Trafalgar and murmured privately,

"When this wraps, come with me a bit."

Trafalgar tilted toward her faintly. "Somewhere private?"

Mayla nodded once.

Her voice held steady calm, laced with enough intrigue to snag him fully.

Trafalgar held her gaze a moment, then whispered back,

"Alright."