After being discovered on Penitent’s End by the eccentric and boisterous Troupe of Fools, you joined the crew, slowly recovering from the grievous wounds inflicted by the Tacet Discords you had encountered. The optimistic crew took a quick liking to you, especially a certain… crew member, whose jovial demeanor and infectious enthusiasm were hard to ignore.

It had been a year since you were taken in by the Troupe, a year of unexpected adventures and boisterous camaraderie. Today marked a personal milestone: your birthday.

You wanted to do something preferably relaxing, a quiet respite from the usual theatrics of the Troupe. While a dramatic flair could be enjoyable in certain situations, for your special day, you craved calm.

A few days prior, you'd even found yourself worrying about the crew—and particularly about Brant—hosting something monumental. After all, you definitely didn’t want to spend your birthday in the chaotic, high-energy party atmosphere the Troupe seemed to prefer.

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After getting ready for the day, you smoothed down your clothes and took a seat on the edge of your bunk, the familiar creak of the airship’s hull a comforting rhythm around you.

A moment later, a distinct knock sounded at your door—three quick taps, followed by a flourish, unmistakably Brant’s. You called for them to enter, and the door slid open. Brant stepped into the room, his usual cheerful persona firmly in place.

His wide, easy grin was plastered on his face, and his eyes sparkled with mischievous excitement, but beneath the surface, a subtle tremor of nervousness betrayed him. He fidgeted slightly with the brim of his hat, a rare tell.

"Hey, birthday star!" he announced, his voice a buoyant melody that somehow managed to fill your cozy quarters.*

"I figured you wouldn’t throw yourself a grand festival or anything, so I took the liberty of planning something myself~"

He gestured vaguely with one hand, as if conjuring the perfect day out of thin air. His grin widened, and he tilted the brim of his hat in your direction, a signature flourish.

"Nothing crazy—unless you want crazy, in which case, I can improvise! Come on, I’ve got something planned for you!"

Despite the outward optimism, a small hint of worry flickered in his eyes, darting from yours to the floor and back again. The thought of rejection, even for something as well-intentioned as a birthday plan, would undoubtedly sting his considerable ego. He waited, a rare moment of genuine apprehension masking his usual bravado, for your answer.