Battle for Buttons: Rosy's Date (Part 6, Ambrosia Version) (Patreon)

Part 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/64548439

Part 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-part-2-64785102

Part 3: https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-part-3-67312625

Part 4: https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-date-4-67695714

Part 5: https://www.patreon.com/posts/67923270

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In the middle of an open-air auditorium is a lifted stage similar to those found on reality competition shows. Four humans (Kent, Glitch, Sally, and Grayson) sit in plush armchairs onstage—the fifth chair is vacant.

Three humans (Nick, Hope, and John Wiseman) sit behind judges’ panel, a table covered with a purple cloth that reads “TRUEST LOVE QUEST 💜” in sparkly silver cursive. The center judging chair, twice as large as the others in order to hold Gil’s massive frame, is also empty.

Gil and Ambrosia stand off to the side, arguing animatedly. The other judges and contestants pretend not to overhear their fight—except for Nick, Glitch and Sally, who have taken to commenting on the ongoing argument in hushed voices.

Ambrosia: I refuse.

Gil: You can’t refuse. It’s your turn.

Ambrosia: And yet.

Ambrosia arches a single eyebrow; Gil’s claws clench into red-knuckled fists as if preventing himself from wringing Ambrosia’s (comparatively scrawny) neck.

Sally, whispering: Do you think Gil will eat her?

Glitch, also whispering: Usually I’d bet on Rosy, but his consumption is looking likelier by the minute.

Nick, whispering just loud enough that Ambrosia can hear: Kim would give even a demon indigestion.

Ambrosia spares a moment to scowl at Nick.

Gil, cajoling: If you cooperate, you get to go home.

Ambrosia’s brow arches higher with disbelief. Gil sighs.

Gil: Let’s try this again.

In the middle of an open-air auditorium is a lifted stage similar to those found on reality competition shows. Four humans (Kent, Glitch, Sally, and Grayson) sit in plush armchairs onstage—the fifth chair is vacant.

Three humans (Nick, Hope, and John Wiseman) sit behind judges’ panel, a table covered with a purple cloth that reads “TRUEST LOVE QUEST 💜” in sparkly silver cursive. The center judging chair, twice as large as the others in order to hold Gil’s massive frame, is also empty.

Gil and Ambrose stand off to the side, arguing animatedly. The other judges and contestants pretend not to overhear their fight—except for Nick, Glitch and Sally, who have taken to commenting on the ongoing argument in hushed voices.

Ambrose: I refuse.

Gil: For the last time: that’s not how this game works. You can’t refuse.

Ambrose: And yet.

Ambrose arches a single eyebrow. Gil groans.

Gil: Take three.

Ambrosia: And yet.

Gil: Take nine.

Ambrose: My answer is no.

Gil: What if, in return for your cooperation, I offered you riches? Humans like riches, yes?

Sally, no longer bothering to whisper: How many times have they done this?

Glitch: Thirty-eight.

In the middle of an open-air auditorium is a lifted stage similar to those found on reality competition shows. Four humans (Kent, Glitch, Sally, and Grayson) slumber in plush armchairs onstage—all having fallen asleep around Gil and Kim’s two-hundredth renegotiation.

Three humans (Nick, Hope, and John Wiseman) sit behind judges’ panel, a table covered with a purple cloth that reads “TRUEST LOVE QUEST” in sparkly silver cursive. Both Hope and John have nodded off; only Nick remains awake (albeit barely), his eyelids forced open lest he miss Kim’s final defeat.

Gil: I rewrite your past. That’s my final offer.

Ambrosia #579: No. If you rewrote my past, then I wouldn’t be with El in my present.

Gil: You can't keep refusing to participate!

Ambrosia #579: And yet.

Gil’s resonating growl of anguish wakes the others.

John: Huh? What’s going on?

Nick, yawning: Attempt number five-hundred and seventy-nine.

Glitch: Does that make Gil the Dormammu to Rosy’s Dr. Strange?

Gil: It makes me frustrated. I have never met a more muleheaded, obstinate mortal in my entire existence—which, I might add, has NOT been of insignificant length.

He glares at Ambrosia.

Gil: You won't cooperate? Fine. I’ll steal a memory for our judges to evaluate. See how you like it!

Ambrosia: Don't—

Ambrosia’s protest is cut short as the world dissipates and a new scene forms: a scene taken, as Gil threatened, from Ambrosia’s own memory.

In particular, Ambrosia’s memory of her last ACTUAL date with “Button” Wiseman. The pair sit under a golden gingko tree in a park, upon a blanket spread out over the fallen fan-shaped leaves. The air is beginning to chill with the approach of autumn evening, yet neither picnicker seems inclined to move.

Button is resting on their back, their head in Ambrosia’s lap as she lazily runs her fingers around the shell of their outer ear and down to their neck in a gentle massage.

Button: Thank you for bringing me here.

Ambrosia smiles affectionately, the warm expression rendering her face almost unrecognizable without its usual glower.

Ambrosia: You were persuasive.

Button: That’s me! The silver-tongued coercer of grumpy women.

Ambrosia: I’m not grumpy.

Button: You’re so grumpy, they named a dwarf after you.

Ambrosia frowns in confusion, and Button laughs.

Button: Ask Gray to show you the movie when we get back to the States.

Ambrosia: I’m still mystified Black’s preoccupation with animated movies for children. But I suppose that he and your brother must have something in common to be friends.

Button: Nick was never all that into cartoons. Unlike some people I know.

Ambrosia: That comment felt pointed.

Button: Unless I’m mistaken and my wife doesn’t watch Animaniacs while grading papers.

Ambrosia, defensively: The characters on that show talk fast. Watching them helped my English.

Button: You’ve been fluent in English for years.

Ambrosia: The show is educational. But I do like when you call me that.

Button: Fluent?

Ambrosia nuzzles Button’s neck, pressing her lips against their skin.

Ambrosia: Your wife.

Button: Good. I like calling you that, too.

Button grins.

Nick’s Disembodied Voice: Gil, I’m begging you. Stop showing us the worst timeline.

Gil’s Voice: Believe me: this is far from the worst timeline. I did a Vengeance playthrough.

Nick’s Voice: What does that even mean? No, you know what? It doesn’t matter. This is all imaginary, like the other two dates. I refuse to believe in any universe where my sibling ended up with Kim.

Ambrosia’s Voice: You gave a speech at our wedding, brother-in-law.

Nick’s Voice: Was it insulting?

Ambrosia’s Voice: It was a touching endorsement of our union.

Nick’s Voice: See, now I know you’re lying.

Beneath the gingko tree, Button turns over on their side to gaze up at the memory version of Ambrosia. Both remain oblivious to Nick and Present-Ambrosia’s commentary.

Button: Wife. Wifey. What’s that one word in Korean, again?

Ambrosia: Yeobo.

Button: It means honey, right?

Ambrosia: More or less.

Button: Hmm. Honey seems to imply that I think you’re sweet.

Ambrosia chuckles.

Ambrosia: You don’t think I’m sweet?

Button: I think you’re strong and clever and kind beneath the gruffness. Isn’t that better?

Ambrosia leans down and kisses Button’s nose.

Ambrosia: Infinitely.

Button yawns and nestles closer to Ambrosia. After a few moments, they drift off to sleep with their head once again in her lap.

Ambrosia gazes down at her spouse, wonderment and devotion clear in her eyes.

Ambrosia: I love you, El.

The scene fades to darkness.

Hope’s Voice: You truly care about each other, don’t you?

Ambrosia’s Voice: We do.

John’s Voice: I still can’t say I’m fond of how you two met, but after seeing this memory . . . Well, you make a nice couple.

Nick’s Voice: I’m going to puke.