He can’t go wrong with an honest-to-goodness compliment. There’s no need to tear down her self-confidence, no matter how difficult she’s being. Uplifting women is the way to go.
“You caught my eye almost as soon as I walked in,” he says now. “You’re a smokeshow, sure, but it’s not only that. I just had this feeling right away. You’re what I’ve been searching for all these years.” He’s not one-hundred-percent lying when he says this. The woman isn’t his ideal type exactly, but she’s a dead ringer for it under a specific set of circumstances. That is, she could potentially be the stuff of his dreams when viewed in the smoky air of the speakeasy whilst squinting blearily after a couple of beers. Scratch that. After a twelve-pack, more like.
She scoffs. “Is that the best you’ve got? I hate to tell you this, but your game is laughably weak. Let me hazard a guess. You practiced those cheeseball lines in front of the mirror before coming here, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t!” he gasps, affronted. “But I have to admit that what I said sounded way better in my head. So I appreciate your brutal honesty. I’ll take your criticism into consideration.”
She shrugs. “Take it or don’t. I don’t really care.”
They sip their drinks in unison. Silence reigns over them once more.
So that move didn’t go over great. But there must be [[something else]] he can do to smooth things over.He’s tried this technique numerous times back in college. The success rate is surprisingly sound. Knocking women down by a peg tends to make them want him more. They fall all over themselves trying to prove him wrong. They begin to long for his validation. Are daddy issues the reason for their self-debasement? Who’s to say? Manipulating women in this manner always makes him feel slimy. Still, if he’s playing this game, he should play to win.
“You caught my attention almost as soon as I entered,” he says now. “You looked like somebody I used to know, this total smokeshow I hit and quit a long time ago. Up close, there’s less of a resemblance. But then I thought why not? We’re already sitting here together. You’re one of the few ladies in this speakeasy not warding off an excess of suitors. There’s a chance you’ve got the best personality out of anybody here, but none of these chumps have bothered to buckle down and coax it out of you.”
She snorts. “Gee, thanks. Blessed be the goddesses for gracing me with your elusive presence. After all, if a woman’s drinking alone in public, she’s obviously an ugly hag whom no man will ever want.”
“But that’s my point,” he interjects. “I <i>want</i> to test the waters with you. In this day and age, men can be so shallow. All they care about is looks. They’re obsessed with scoring nines and tens and bragging about their conquests to their buddies afterward. Couldn’t be me.”
“So, just to clarify, you don’t think I’m an ugly hag?”
“I don’t. In fact, the more I gaze into your rich brown eyes, the more I find to appreciate. I’m definitely warming up to your looks.”
She raises her eyebrows as she takes a sip of her cocktail. He can sense, without her saying it, that she’s starting to warm up to him too.
Success! He takes a celebratory swig of whiskey as he thinks of [[something else]] he can do to maintain this momentum.She sets down her tall glass after guzzling a fifth of her zombie. Her hand rests on the table, with her impeccably-groomed fingernails drumming against the surface.
Is she wordlessly encouraging him to initiate physical contact? It’s like when, at the cinema, a woman lays her hand on the armrest separating her from the man she’s dating. Her palm faces upward as if to invite him to insert his fingers into the interstices between her own.
Should he [[take the bait][$points += 1]] or [[keep his distance]]?He’ll snag this chance to make contact. But he can’t be slobbering all over her. At least, not yet. He needs to introduce just the right amount of physical touch to blur the boundaries between them and leave her yearning for more.
He reaches out and slides his hand over hers. The training-hardened calluses of his palm just barely brush the smooth skin on the back of her hand. As described by the bartender on his first day in the speakeasy, the NPC’s skin is surprisingly warm for a being probably made with pixels and programming.
The contact between them, while calculated to be tantalizing, doesn’t ignite any sparks on his end. He can’t speak for how it makes her feel, but she holds his gaze and refrains from pulling away.
The meeting of their hands only lasts for a split second. He goes on to pick up an extra straw on the table. He shucks off the paper wrapper and stirs his whiskey with the straw. Staring at the melting ice, he wonders what his [[next move]] should be.They’ve barely begun talking. Slobbering all over her so early in the conversation will be a surefire way of driving her to dump her drink on the dark spikes of his hair. This isn’t his preferred way of getting his face all wet.
Right, so he can’t be feeling her up before they’ve established the bare minimum level of rapport. What’s his [[next move]], then?He should ensure the conversational juices are flowing between them. He already knows she despises awkward silences.
Is it time to get [[up close and personal][$points += 1]] with her? Or should he keep it [[surface-level]] so as not to scare her away?Small talk will only remain small if he lets it. Lighthearted fodder like the weather can still segue into deeper conversational topics.
Well, here goes. “The nights in Limeiro have been getting colder, haven’t they?”
She groans. “The weather, really? I swear, your game is getting weaker by the minute. I didn’t imagine you could sink this low, but you never fail to impress me.”
“I’m just saying. When the nights are this chilly, it makes you wish you had somebody warm to cuddle at night.”
“Is that the real reason why you approached me?” she asks. “Did you peg me to be a cuddly kind of woman?”
“I mean, you’ve got a petite body type. Scientifically speaking, you’d fit perfectly into my arms at night.” Not perfectly, no. He’s embraced perfection once before, felt that puzzle piece slot effortlessly against his body’s contours. “Trust me, I know what I’m saying. I’m a doctor.”
She sighs. “For a medical professional, you’re shockingly delusional about how women’s brains work, what they want to hear. But I suppose you require your full doctor’s kit, inclusive of stethoscope and thermometer, to figure out what makes us tick.”
Well, that was a bust. He should [[keep this going]], though. It’s too soon to throw in the towel.Up close and personal is the way to go. A woman who keeps her walls up like she does will not be inclined to give up the goods unless he somehow succeeds in fostering a foundation of intimacy between them. Maybe not even then.
So what does this mean? He has to worm his way into her heart as swiftly as he possibly can. If he has no hopes of cracking her, he may as well cut his losses and devote his attention to a target more receptive to his advances. Here in Wildin, there’s no shortage of options.
“Hey, let’s play a game,” he says.
“What game?”
“Two Truths and a Lie. Have you played it before?” When she shakes her head, he explains how it works. “So I’ll list out three statements. Of those three, you’ll have to weed out which one is a lie, purely based on your impression of me. The other two statements will be facts about yours truly.” She looks unconvinced so he adds, “I’ve played this game before, and it was always the best time. Trust me.”
“And why should I trust you? I barely know you.”
“I’m a doctor. My patients trust me with their lives every day.”
She sighs as if he’s just confessed to being a serial killer. “Guess I can’t argue with the logic of a medical professional. Let’s do it.”
“So for the first statement. . . .” What will he tell her? He can share a fact about [[his childhood]] or the [[Hunter Exam]] or [[medical school]].Just as he’s opening his mouth to ask her if they should freshen up their drinks at the bar, someone taps his shoulder. He whirls around to see Basho standing there — face tinged pink and arms wrapped around two women.
“Just checking in!” his friend bellows. “We’re heading to the brothel now! Maybe you wanted to join us? In fact, both of you can come! Are you amenable to that, Miss?”
Leorio glances at his target. She doesn’t stand, doesn’t smile, doesn’t speak. There are no signs whatsoever that she’s receptive to Basho’s proposal. Then it dawns on Leorio. Basho, whether purposefully or not, has presented Leorio with an opportunity to raise his stock with his own target.
Should he try to [[make her jealous][$points += 1]]? Or would that be [[too risky]] of a move?“I grew up dirt-poor in a dangerous neighborhood,” he says. “We barely had enough Jenny to eat every day, let alone afford the luxuries that those born wealthy take for granted. Warm clothes for winter. Prestigious schooling. Life-saving medical services and procedures.”
“You came from abject poverty. Got it. [[Go on.]]”“I passed the Hunter Exam by the skin of my teeth,” he says. “I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t have three loyal companions upon whom I could depend. They’re friends for life.” Two of them are, at least. The third, he hasn’t seen or heard from in years.
“Your friends were your salvation. Got it. [[Go on.]]”“I didn’t have the highest grades in medical school,” he says. “But once I started working at the hospital, everybody loved me — the doctors, the nurses, the administrative staff, the maintenance, the patients. Especially the patients. They deemed me the best intern, then the best resident for all the years I was there. I’m mediocre at academics but stellar in a practical setting.”
“You were the most popular doctor where you worked. Got it. [[Go on.]]”He should tell her a second truth. Which one shall he choose? He can talk about [[his daily routine]] or [[his interests]]. Or he can try being more candid by revealing the [[most embarrassing moment]] of his life.He rattles off every last detail of his daily routine since relocating to Greed Island. Breakfasts at the cafeteria where his fellow beta testers convene. The mundanities of his duties as a consultant at Limeiro’s medical hub. Beers with his buddies at the nearest pub.
He only stops when he notices her eyes glazing over. Last night’s target reacted the same way when he bored her. He’s droned about his humdrum life long enough. He shuts his mouth and says [[no more]] about that.Maybe his interests are as interesting to other people as they are to him. Who knows?
“When I’m winding down at night,” he says, “I like flipping through magazines. I don’t bother reading the text since I’m tuckered out from poring over medical records all day. I just look at the pictures.”
“Are these the type of magazines you stuff under your mattress whenever you have company over?” she asks. “Do the pages get sticky with lubricant and other substances?”
“Guess.”
“Say [[no more]].”He braces himself as he barrels backward in time to relive his memories of total mortification. “So one day I was taking a nap while my friends were sitting close by. We were waiting for a set number of hours to pass. The details aren’t important. Two of my friends were whiling away the time by reeling in random objects using a fishing rod. The hook snagged one of my belt loops and started tugging. And tugging. And tugging. Before I could swat away the hook, it yanked down my pants and exposed my bare buttocks to everybody in the room. I spun around and caught another friend of mine staring openly at my ass. The shock of the moment turned his face red, but no one — and I mean nobody in the world in the entire course of human history — blushed brighter than I did right then. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life. No competition.”
There’s a pause before she speaks. “That’s it? You’re all friends so who cares? Men typically shed their clothes and let everything swing free when they’re in the locker room at the gym, don’t they?”
Now that she mentions it, <i>why</i> was that moment the pinnacle of embarrassment for him? He’s had lots of shameful times throughout his three decades of life. Just last night, Basho and Zepile mentioned some serious contenders, like the time he blabbered details of his self-pleasuring habits to an entire auditorium of Hunters. Then again, <i>that person</i> wasn’t there to watch him humiliate himself.
So, on the scale of embarrassing moments, his speech in front of the Hunter Association wasn’t comparable to the time he accidentally flashed his ass to the person whose butt-cheeks he secretly wanted to squeeze.
He purses his lips but says [[no more]] about the subject to the woman in front of him.The time has come for him to throw in a lie amidst the truths he’s thus far shared.
“I’ve never been in love,” he declares. “I’m waiting for that special someone who makes me lose my inhibitions. That one person who’s the exception to every rule in my book, you know?”
“Oh, please,” she groans. “You won’t be telling me next that I could potentially be the love of your life, will you?”
He waggles his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes in return, but he’s got a feeling he delivered those lines just right. He’s getting back into the groove of his history as a ladies’ man.
“So what’s your guess? Which of those three things I told you is a lie?”
She doesn’t skip a beat. “The first one, for sure. There’s not a doubt in my mind you were lying about that.”
“Why do you think that one was a lie?”
“Just a feeling. I’m beginning to understand what you’re all about. You’re at your best and most honest when you’re living in the moment rather than dwelling on your past. So? Have I been reading you accurately?”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head. Absolutely.”
He’s lying, of course. But now that he’s starting to score points with her, he should [[keep this going]].He won’t risk pushing her away with mind games like that.
“No, we’re both good,” Leorio assures his friend. “Zep might be into the idea, though. Have you tried asking him?”
“Can’t,” Basho responds. “He booked a back room and disappeared with his target in record time. Some guys just have all the luck — that automatic magic touch — don’t they?”
“Well, it looks like you and your lovely ladies will get equally as lucky soon. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow night, all right?”
Basho waves then walks off with the two women. Leorio turns back toward his target and sees her scowling.
“Why’d you do that?” she demands.
“Do what?”
“Answer on my behalf.”
“Why? Did you <i>want</i> to accept his invitation?”
“I guess we’ll never know now,” she grumbles. “I must’ve missed the part where you mentioned you were not only a mind-reader, but also my agent who’s taken it upon himself to respond to all queries directed at me.”
“Sorry, I spoke out of turn. I was just enjoying my time alone with you. I wrongly presumed we were on the same page about that.”
She breaks the silence between them after a few seconds of stewing. “As long as you realize your mistake and apologize for it, I can let it go.”
He hasn’t totally bombed it with her. That’s [[a relief]].His target seems like she has a competitive side. He should take advantage of that aspect of her personality to appeal to her.
Rubbing his chin, he makes a point of looking at Basho’s women from head to toe. He lets his eyes linger on their painted lips, their bountiful bosoms, their thighs exposed beneath skimpy skirts.
Locked within Leorio’s penetrating gaze, the two NPCs flanking his friend flutter and flush. They’ve been programmed to act this way, Leorio knows, but their affectations of modesty appear authentic, all the same.
“I can’t lie,” he drawls. “I’m liking what I see.” He smiles at his target now. “What do you say? If you aren’t interested in accepting my friend’s offer, I just might. You don’t mind, do you?”
She reaches for his hand and tangles their fingers together before addressing Basho. “We’re good here, actually. We’re not ready to leave just yet. You should go enjoy yourselves.”
Leorio waves Basho and his women farewell with his free hand.
Looks like his trick worked. That’s [[a relief]].At his suggestion, he and his target head toward the bar. She refuses a refill but gestures for him to go ahead if he so chooses. At the last second, he forgoes his usual order and instead scores a few shots of tequila. He’ll need as much liquid courage as possible to seal the deal with tonight’s target.
Just as he slaps the emptied shot glass on the counter, she glances at the silver watch on her dainty wrist. “It’s late.”
“Is it, really?” The heat of the liquor is diffusing over his skin. “Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but I feel like the night’s just beginning.”
The moment has finally arrived. Everything tonight has been leading up to this. He can [[be straightforward]] and ask her if she’s down to get themselves a room. Another option would be to [[create some distance][$points += 1]] between them and hope she takes the initiative to close it.He swallows, then finally throws out the question that’s been hovering over them all this time, like a storm cloud getting ready to blow. “So do you, uh, want to book a room for the both of us? We’ve got a good thing going here, don’t you think?” When she only stares silently at him, words continue slurring out his mouth. “I, um, I think you’re super hot and —”
She steps forward and does [[something unexpected]].He’s got to make her chase, to trick her into thinking it was her own choices that brought them together.
He spins around so that he’s facing the rest of the speakeasy instead of the counter or his current drinking companion. Feigning indifference in her, he scans the crowd as if searching for a new diversion.
“If it’s too late for you to stay, you should go,” he says. “I think I’ll hang out a bit longer. I’m betting there’s somebody out here who can go back and forth with me and who can take what I’m dishing. You showed some promise, at least initially. I get it, though. It’s easier to run away than to face something real. It’s totally normal to be scared.”
She snatches his collar, yanks his face closer to her height, and does [[something unexpected]].<<if $points gt 3>>She crushes their lips together in a feverish kiss. His hands find her waist and pull her full and flush against his body.
Then the strangest thing happens. As they continue grasping at each other, the heat of their kiss dissipates instead of escalates. He fancies another shot of tequila to fan the flames between them. Or the rest of the bottle, even.
He pulls away. Her eyes are dewy, hazy with hunger for more, even as his hand blindly creeps over the counter for a lifeline. He mutely taps the shot glass, then holds up a single finger.
Taking his cue, the bartender refills the glass with tequila. This guy is a godsend, truly.
Leorio tosses back his last shot then smacks down the glass. “All right. Let’s spare the speakeasy the exhibition and book ourselves a back room. Can’t wait to show you all the things I’ve been dying to do to you.”
The back rooms turn out to be fully occupied, however. He drunkenly leads her to the brothel next door. Once the receptionist sees the name he scribbles down on the booking form, they’re waved right through, free of charge. Such are the perks of being a beta tester for Wildin’s dating sim.
Hand-in-hand, they head up to their room.
It’s been many months since he’s shared a bed with anyone. To alleviate his frayed nerves, he keeps all the lights off in the room the entire time.
Her body is warm, soft, and pliable beneath him. Her thighs clench around his waist as his fingers dive down and explore. Her arms fly around his neck. Her ankles hook around his back as he eventually slides home.
He can hardly believe this body isn’t the real thing. The sense of relief that emanates as he finishes inside it is immediate. He can’t deny it — a part of him was afraid he wouldn’t get there in the end, whether with this mimicry of a woman or any other.
Spent now, the NPC’s eyes flutter shut. He lies motionlessly on the mattress beside her. He can’t give in to the fog of liquor and lust and drift away just yet. He waits until he perceives her to be asleep before he rises from the bed.
Having done the same in dark bedrooms countless times before, he’s kept track of the places where every clothing item has fallen. He dresses in silence, then reaches for the knob.
As the door snaps shut behind him, he can’t help but wonder. What happens to an NPC after she has fulfilled her purpose and is left alone? Does she require sleep and sustenance as real women do? Does lying in bed recharge her battery or whatever else might be powering her?
Or does she cease to exist the moment the player [[departs]] from the room?
<<else>>A smacking sound echoes around the speakeasy. The woman has slapped him full on the face.
Everybody in the vicinity falls silent to stare as she grabs her purse and stalks out with her nose held high.
His face is glowing red all the way to the tips of his ears. He avoids everyone’s eyes and only glares at the fresh glass of whiskey that the bartender has poured out and pushed toward him without being prompted.
Eventually — after the scandalized whispering has subsided, after the pleasantries and piano-playing has resumed, and after the ruddy handprint on his left cheek has faded — he glances at the bartender with a sheepish expression.
“Can’t believe I struck out two nights in a row,” he says. “My friends tell me they haven’t been playing this dating sim much longer than I have. So why am I lagging behind this much? What’s wrong with me? Is my recent stint at involuntary celibacy betraying me, making me reek of <i>eau de</i> desperation? Be honest with me, man. Am I shaping up to be the worst player you’ve ever seen?”
“You’re not the worst beginner I’ve observed, no,” the bartender replies. “You had your work cut out for you from the start, if I may add. I know all the stats of the NPCs in Wildin, and the one you selected boasts an especially egregious difficulty level. Would you like some advice, Mr. Paladiknight?”
“Fire away. I obviously need all the help I can get.”
“Next time you single someone out, look for me behind the bar and wait for my signal. Thumbs-up means it’s a good idea. Thumbs-down means you’re better off switching targets. Of course, you can still opt to give one of our NPCs a shot even if she’s a tough one to figure out. That’s all up to you and whether you welcome a challenge.”
Leorio nods. “Okay. Thanks for the hint. I might do that next time around. For now, I just want to wallow in my misery all by my lonesome. Would you mind leaving the bottle behind? There are so many other customers you have to serve so I don’t want to hog all your attention.”
“Of course, Mr. Paladiknight. Please drink as much as you’d like. Remember, the liquor flows freely in this establishment.”
He doesn’t need much persuading, that’s for certain. He [[drinks]] and [[drinks]] and [[drinks]].
<</if>>At the next evening’s review of his miserable losing streak, Basho and Zepile do their best to soothe him. They’re back in Wildin again. Leorio’s friends ply him with alcohol as they loyally list his every strength and virtue in a concerted effort to counteract his tirade of self-hatred.
His game will go better next time, his friends swear. Since he’s hit rock-bottom, things can only [[go upward]] from here. In fact, striking out now will make his successes in the future all the sweeter.The next evening, when Leorio and his friends regroup in Wildin, they toast to all their successes the night before. Zepile locked down his NPC in less than ten minutes. Basho engaged in his first threesome since touching down at Greed Island. He hopes to be participating in many more to come. Best of all, Leorio has finally put an end to his recent stint at involuntary celibacy.
Things can only [[go upward]] from here, now that Leorio has hit his stride, his friends swear.His friends may be right. He’s leaving the slump of his old life behind and making his way upward in a slow and steady pace. What can possibly await him at the end of this uphill journey?
He supposes he’ll <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/48258055/chapters/121703746" target="_blank">find out soon enough.</a><<set $points to 0>>The sounds of the speakeasy — jazzy piano-playing, clinking glasses, and sultry voices — ebb out as the hammering of his heart takes center stage.
The eyes of tonight’s target are laser-like, following without respite as he shuffles over and sits on the chair across from hers. Her eyes, while a rich brown shade, aren’t warm and woodsy in the way he likes best. In her unceasing scrutiny, he’s tempted to shrink against his seat, to fold into himself.
But he knows he can’t afford to do that right now. Not if he wishes to put an end to his months-long dry spell.
“Well?” Her voice rings out, confident and clear. “Are you going to wow me with some sparkling conversation? Or are you simply testing out how long we can both go simmering in this godforsaken silence before wanting to tear out our hair? If it’s the latter, I have better things to do than sit here with you.”
Yikes. His second encounter with an NPC in this dating sim isn’t going well at all. Far from charming her pants off, he’s worsening her opinion of him with every minute that passes.
What words can he utter to win her over? Or, at the very least, what can he say to get himself back at ground zero? It always helps to say [[something nice]], right? For somebody as snooty as she seems to be, will a [[backhanded compliment][$points += 1]] be a better move?<i><b>Author's note:</b> Please be warned that this story may contain depictions of depression, addiction, alcohol abuse or alcoholism, recreational drug use, and implied sexual content.
If you are amenable to such content, [[please proceed|START]].</i>