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Post by Spinister on Feb 4, 2012 23:30:46 GMT -5
M6W3D4, at Aidan's flower shop, open
Ned is sulking. So Esprit is haphazardly trying to hit upon the proper courtship rite to return herself into his good graces. Thus far, she has acquired a The Devil Wears Prada Needlenose action figure, which she hopes that he does not already have, and a Needlenose blanket, which she hopes that no one else has, ever. The fact that the blanket even exists disturbs her slightly.
Now she is stopping into a florist shop in the late, late afternoon. Esprit won't have dinner ready for Ned, but she suspects that he never wants her to cook ever again.
Her gaze rests steadily on the cypress.
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 10:26:12 GMT -5
Aidan's shop, Floriograph, is open somewhat late for a florist, several hours after the end of the working day. But there are invariably evening dates and the like where someone wants just the right flower for the occasion, and so they come to him. He's in the middle of bringing in a few of his plants; while he isn't about to close, some of the plants, while they enjoy the bright afternoon, aren't suited to the westering sun. So he pauses in the middle of stooping for another flowerpot and turns a smile on his guest.
"Welcome, welcome," he murmurs quietly. He doesn't want to hazard a guess as to why she turned first to the cypress, but a polite man doesn't make guesses as to a lady's reasons. Aidan does, however, very carefully venture, "…Troubles?"
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Post by Spinister on Feb 5, 2012 10:35:02 GMT -5
Esprit's gaze flicks over to the winter cherry thoughtfully. Then she shrugs and replies, "Good day. When aren't there troubles?"
Finding troubles is rather her business.
She pauses at the belladonna. Such a lovely pinky-purple, she thinks. Then, she explains further, "I'm looking for a bouquet to please my husband."
Usually, the scenario would be the other way around, wouldn't it?
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 13:32:10 GMT -5
Usually, yes, a husband comes seeking flowers for his wife. But that doesn't mean a wife wouldn't like the same, or that she couldn't if she so chose. Aidan doesn't question why people come to him; that isn't his place. He simply does what he can to see they leave with just the right flowers.
"I see," he murmurs, making no comment on her sentiments of trouble. He tries not to dwell on such things, lest they eat him up from the inside out, hollowing him away like acid. He shakes his head at this train of thought, banishing it and the awful constricted feeling it sets off in his chest. "Is this a special occasion," he wonders, "or…." He recalls her first look, at the cypress. "An apology?"
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Post by Spinister on Feb 5, 2012 13:57:18 GMT -5
Decepticons generally do not like admitting fault or weakness, especially not to strangers. So Esprit says simply, "No."
She considers the aloe and basil.
"He likes fashion, trends, electronics, and video games. Currently, he's into steampunk."
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 19:59:40 GMT -5
Off the top of his head, Aidan can't think of much that makes such mutable interests sound complimentary. Trends and fashion are fickle, fickle things. He decides after a brief deliberation that a base of rye grass is a good starting point.
"All right," he says, "and is there anything in particular you'd like to say with the arrangement?" He has no idea what colours are 'in' at the moment, but he thinks some particularly bright and fresh blossoms will do. In the middle of all this, he pauses to upright a rather sad-looking aloe stem.
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Post by Spinister on Feb 5, 2012 21:13:55 GMT -5
"That I think he is very competent," Esprit replies without thinking. "He does his job well."
She sort of doubts that humans have any flower code for 'nice photon missiles'.
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 21:28:29 GMT -5
Aidan blinks, bemused. Competent? She's quite a dry person if that's the sort of compliment she pays her husband. Aidan keeps that to himself, of course.
"Oh… kay," he murmurs, trying at the last minute to save the awkward reply. "And is that all?" He steps away as he asks; he doesn't have many sunflowers, but he'll only need one for a good centrepiece. He can't very well make the rest of it rye grass, though – and it has only a little to do with the issue of money. There must be more, he thinks, that she'd like to say. Perhaps she simply doesn't know how to say it? He stops with both long, almost elegant, slender hands cupped gingerly around a sunflower blossom. Perhaps he's just projecting, he tells himself. After all, he can't find enough ways to explain to his own girlfriend how he adores her, and he spends his days crafting heartfelt messages with flowers!
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Post by Spinister on Feb 5, 2012 21:36:51 GMT -5
"He does amazing detail-work with his art, but he keeps practicality and efficiency in mind, too," Esprit says, at length.
Esprit adds, as an afterthought, and it is a definite afterthought, "He's very physically attractive." He's vain about his looks, but looks are low on her list of why Esprit loves Ned.
Outside, it starts raining.
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 22:01:18 GMT -5
More to work with! Aidan breathes a small, heavily stifled sigh of relief and the worried knot developing between his brows eases. He nods without turning around until he has selected just the right blossom.
"I think I know what to do, then," he says. He doesn't quite register the sound of the rain until it patters over the awning outside his door. An awful feeling descends upon the shop, dread weight in the air, on his mind, a crawling sensation in his skin. Esprit might even see the change in his posture, how his back stiffens and his shoulders draw in. He glances out the door and though his expression is rather bland, there is very real fear in his dull greyish eyes. "Excuse me," he says quickly, "I – I need to pull in the plants." And he hurries to do just that, first donning a slicker though the rain is hardly more than a light sprinkle.
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Post by Spinister on Feb 5, 2012 22:10:48 GMT -5
Esprit watches the fear in the florist when the rain comes. Why is he so afraid? Rain here isn't like rain on Cybertron. Slightly confused, she asks, "Don't plants need water?"
Hairsplitter better not be lying to her about how plants work.
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 22:17:12 GMT -5
"Different plants," Aidan huffs as he shuffles back and forth, "need different amounts of water. And I'm very careful… about measuring it." Though a careful look at the shop will reveal no sprinkling water cans. A handful of misting bottles and several cans that pour from spouts, but nothing that comes remotely close to mimicking natural rainfall. He moves with the speed of a man harried, and in short order, every last plant and pot is either safely indoors or near enough beneath the awning to escape Mother Nature. Aidan looks significantly more haggard when he strips off his bright orange slicker and hangs it on its peg.
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Post by Spinister on Feb 5, 2012 22:46:48 GMT -5
Esprit does look around at the misting bottles and spouted cans. She supposes that is somewhat peculiar, but she is not a florist, so maybe that is just how florists do it.
She also looks at the orange slicker for a moment. He had that slicker ready. Also, isn't yellow more typical?
Esprit decides to be blunt, "Why are you afraid of rain?"
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Post by Flame on Feb 5, 2012 23:18:57 GMT -5
Orange has always been one of Aidan's favourite colours. Every photo of him growing up, and there are several, that wasn't for a formal occasion has him in one of his favourite orange shirts. Naturally, he had to have an orange slicker when he found it. And he heard the forecast calling for evening showers, though he hadn't expected any rain until after he'd closed and was on his way home.
"What?" he asks between ragged gasps. It's so hard to get any air; he must have pushed a little too hard. He sinks onto the stool behind the till, gripping the edge of the counter with one white-knuckled hand. He isn't sure of the answer to her question; he can't think of anything in particular about the rain itself that frightens him. It's the things that have happened in the rain that terrify him. But he can't tell if the sounds he remembers are squealing tires or screaming voices.
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Post by Spinister on Feb 6, 2012 1:00:05 GMT -5
Esprit crouches down and says patiently, "You are afraid of the rain. Are you going to be all right, sir?"
If he is not okay, she will call 911 for him. Panic attacks can be seriously life threatening.
That is what Esprit enjoys so much about them.
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