happilyeverbeginning | And I’ll face all the evils that our love will surely bring [scrooge x magica]

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And I’ll face all the evils that our love will surely bring [scrooge x magica]

Experimental spells were called that for good reason - they weren't things one did without fully knowing and understand its powers. But Magica was many things when she had screamed that incantation - narcissistic and desperate, to start with. It turned out being all-powerful meant nothing when you weren't all-knowing, and the spell had backfired spectacularly. It was a sheer miracle she'd come out of unharmed... for the most part.

The injuries to her body looked worse than they really were, and given her magic, they'd heal quickly. The real issue was her head, as she hadn't woken up in days. Finally, mercifully, she began to wake up, though that in of itself felt like a long, painful process. It hurt just to open her eyes, and thus took her several attempts, the light in the room giving her a headache. She struggled, keeping at it, moaning quietly, her vision initially blurry.

When she could finally make her surroundings - or at least the ceiling, as she still didn't have the strength to move her head just yet - she didn't recognize it. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be...

... Ah. Hm. Uh.

"Where... am I?"

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Magica might have taken it a bit better if he finished before mentioning the decades-long outfit he was wearing. "I am not going to wear the same dress for ten plus years! Are you nuts?!"

Maybe that's how long her memory would be lost, but dang it all, she should have some choice in how she would live her "new" life! "And if you think for a second I'm going to wear someone else's hand-me-downs I'm going to need way more than a small glass of champagne to get over this day!" Thank goodness this town wasn't heavily populated, as all that yelling would've definitely gotten some attention.

Well, technically she already had...

He rolled his eyes as the waiter brought back their drinks: water for him, champagne for her.

"Is the scene really necessary?"

Not by choice!

Magia huffed, snatching the glass. She was tempted to down the whole thing, but if she was only being allowed one, she'd have to make it last, and sipped it. "Hmph." And she let it drop at that, for now.

The meal arrived and Scrooge was content to let it pass in quiet. He didn't need endless chatter like Magica had always seemed to.

Though once she'd finished her meal and gotten up to go to the restroom, Scrooge had made one more order: a cup of coffee for him and a small plate of the tiramisu for her. And when she returned from the restroom, she would find the plate at her seat...albeit missing a small corner of it. (Hey, he had a sweet tooth and it was right there.) However, he didn't say anything about the cake, just sipping his coffee as if both had simply appeared out of nowhere.

Admittedly, the food was delicious. It pained her to admit it, and, well, besides, it was hardly the point! Why have all that money and practically flaunt it in her face if you weren't willing to splurge here and there? If he thought she wasn't going to get some clothes she actually wanted and liked, he had another thing coming!

Magica returned, as huffy as ever, until she spotted the dessert. She blinked once, twice, glanced at Scrooge, and quietly sat down. Why was he only willing to show his soft side whenever she wasn't looking? Sheesh. It was cute in a dumb way.

She didn't say anything until after she had a bite - she wouldn't show gratitude if it was disgusting, after all. "... Thank you."

"I told you the food was excellent," Scrooge said smugly, raising a brow at her before taking another sip of his coffee.

He knew he didn't have to do such a thing, but he'd wanted to. She'd been so sulky even if she had been eating with gusto.

A lot of the things that had meant the most, the truly finest things he'd ever had, had been second-hand or inexpensive. People got creative when they didn't have much, making things more special and personal. He would rather have a stack of someone's perfected pancakes that they managed to put together with ingredients found at the local supermarket than a filet mignon made from the finest wagyu beef.

She'd likely call him a sap for that.

Yes, yes she would have. Then she would have gotten mad they didn't gave wagyu beef here, ignoring the fact she had no idea what it was.

But that was that and this was this, and she was silently pleased with her simple dessert, even if he had clearly taken a bite. "I have no choice but to trust you on anything anymore." She pointed out, finishing her meal quickly.

"Oh, you've always got a choice," Scrooge told her bluntly. "You could tell me to go pleasure myself with a rusty spoon and set off on your own. Admittedly not likely to be the brightest option, but it is still an option."

Magica snorted, mostly at the mental image. "And you could have left me to freeze to death or wander around like a hopeless idiot." If he's going to say there's always a choice, he needs to consider the ones he's made. "Not everyone would do what you do. Is it really so difficult for you to acknowledge that?"

You're a good guy, Scrooge. Maybe not bright, as far as Magica's concerned, but good.

"True. I could've, but I likely would've regretted it."

One of these days it was going to definitely get him killed.

In the meantime, Scrooge twirled the teaspoon that had come with the coffee before trying to move it closer to her dessert to sneak another small bite of it.

His fork met her spoon, blocking it off.

"If you really do want a spoon shoved somewhere..."

Back off. She was the victim here, you already got a bite!

Scrooge smirked as he raised his free hand in mock surrender, pulling his offending teaspoon back. Instead, he chuckled and took another sip of his coffee.

Damn straight. Magica huffed, making sure to eat her dessert slightly faster in case he tried again. Gods, he was insufferable.

And cute. A weird mix of both. He was strange, that was definite... he was so many things it was really hard to just pick one label for him. Was he like this with everyone, or was this part of their "relationship", for lack of a better word?

Scrooge McDuck was many things to many different people. "Insufferable" was definitely one of the common descriptors. "Cute" not so much.

Cute is in the eye of the beholder, after all. But with the dessert finished and paid for, they could now make their way to the clothes shop.

"It's funny," Magica remarked, walking alongside him. Unlike the way to the restaurant, she wasn't hugging his arm like some giddy girlygirl, now that she knew he wasn't going to use his riches to live the high life. "I can remember words, and places, but not my connection to them. I don't even know my own sizes."

The shift didn't go unnoticed, but it more amused Scrooge than anything else. At least she wasn't going to keep trying to weasel her way into more of his money.

"Well, that's fortunate. Not that you've forgotten your dress sizes or anything personal, but that you at least don't have to re-learn everything from scratch. Besides, the shops can adjust what you find to better fit you."

He wasn't entirely heartless. Besides, in this case something sturdy and well-tailored would last longer than something mass-produced which might fit oddly in places and catch on things.

"But it makes me wonder of my amnesia is related to the spell, or the injury. That could make a world of difference." She flicked her fingers for any sign of a spark or color, even though by now she knew it wasn't going to do anything. "For all we know, if it had hit you instead of me, I could be the one leading you around and helping you out."

Now the really weird thing was... she genuinely seemed to believe that she would. There was no hint of the Magica that wanted to strangle Scrooge with her bare hands, seeped in fifteen years of sheer hatred.

Oh, boy. He grimaced a bit at that, feeling suddenly guilty.

This Magica he had no quarrel with, but the longer she stayed around him, the sooner she'd realize that he was keeping something from her about their previous relationship.

"Magica, when we get back to the room, I need to talk to you about something. However, I'd rather not talk about it in the open."

Where anyone could hear and cause an issue.

Magica raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" If he's going to phrase it like that, of course she's going to be curious. What wouldn't he want other people to know out in the open?

Was it something embarrassing? Seeing him flustered made for adorable mental imagery.

"It's about what we were before you lost your memory. It wasn't exactly a secret," Scrooge said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I know others are going to ask about what's going on now, and I'd rather you find out from me rather than someone else."

Magica frowns, curious but also a little annoyed. If it was so important, why not tell her right away? Why hold out? Why wait until they were alone? She grumbled, but then tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Fine. I need to get clothes, so I can't exactly put it off." It wasn't a surrender, as she wasn't happy with this, but they had to be practical. "But that should give you plenty of time to think about what I need to know. And if you chicken out at the room... I'll find a rusty spoon."

"So noted," Scrooge said with some amusement.

He led the way to a rather niece clothing shop. Nothing that would break the bank, but definitely not a department store. These clothes would definitely withstand quite a bit of wear and tear even if they weren't glitzy.

Magica had tried not to get her hopes up, yet they were still dashed. She wanted fancy designer logos and expensive tags! Could she even look sexy in any of this? She had a good body, and she wanted to show it off.

With a quiet huff, she began to sort through the selections. No big surprise, she tended to go towards black.

Scrooge contented himself with just sitting down on one of the benches intended for significant others with no interest in clothing that had been dragged along. At least he was letting her choose her own wardrobe without oversight. He definitely didn't know what women needed.

He didn't think he was going to get off that easily, did he?

"How do I look?"

Why trust a mirror when a man's opinion was much more fun and less biased? After a quick change in the fitting room, she came to him wearing a form-fitting dress with slits for the legs and generous coverage for her cleavage. Dresses were far more comfortable and her style, with or without memories, so at least she kept her sense of style.

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