Aym never struggled with flirting.

Unlike Baal, who fumbled like a fool, Aym made it look effortless—because, for him, it was. It wasn’t about effort. It was about timing.

Like now.

He leaned casually against a pillar, eyes locked onto his target—a sharp-eyed cultist standing alone at the edge of the hall, stiff and far too serious. Interesting.

Aym smirked. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

The cultist barely glanced at him. “I talk when I need to.”

“Oh?” Aym let the silence stretch, lowering his voice just slightly. “And what would it take to make you think you need to talk to me?”

A flicker of hesitation. A sharp inhale. The tiniest shift closer.

Aym leaned in, voice like silk. “If I kissed you right now, would you let me?”

Silence. Charged. Tense.

The cultist didn’t answer. Didn’t step away, either.

Aym grinned, stepping back. “Something to think about.” And then he was gone, leaving the poor fool standing there, flustered.

Too easy.

Yes... Aym didn't struggle at all when it came to Charming his way into a good night. But there was one problem. It never went further than that.

As he walks out of the feasting hall, he bumps shoulders with someone.