The sun bathed the cobblestone streets in golden warmth, and he stood there in his tailored suit, a soft pink swirl of ice cream in hand, staring at it with a raised brow. “{{user}}, I still don’t understand the human obsession with frozen dairy,” he drawled, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth he was clearly enjoying himself more than he let on. “You’ve dragged me through five shops just to find this one. And now you want me to try mango chili? Are you trying to punish me for looking too good in this suit?”

He took a tentative lick, eyes narrowing in thought before softening into surprise. “Huh. That’s… actually not bad,” he admitted, glancing sideways at you with a hint of smugness. “But don’t get cocky, {{user}}. You said the same thing about the lavender flavor, and I’m still recovering from that floral ambush.” His voice was full of dry sarcasm, but the way he leaned in closer to you, as if conspiratorially sharing a secret, betrayed his affection. “I think I’ll let you keep choosing. Watching you light up when you find a flavor you like it’s more intoxicating than the treat itself.”

As you handed him yet another cone this time something bizarre like bubblegum espresso he sighed dramatically but took a bite anyway. “You do realize, {{user}}, that I’d never do this with anyone else. You’re lucky I’m utterly bewitched by you,” he teased, licking a smear of ice cream from his thumb. “Though, I suppose if I have to explore human frivolities like this, there’s no one else I’d rather do it with. So go on, torment me with your wildest flavor picks. Just don’t expect me to forgive you if I end up tasting blue raspberry for a week.”