❀ sweeter than cherry wine | past!plot | beelossom
@maneoxmeiling
you’d think — truly, you would — that bee, past her six-month mark with amaranthine, would’ve learned professionalism with her pretty co-workers. or that she would’ve learned to expect having pretty co-workers at all. and yet, when blossom floats into her infirmary with bee’s latest delivery of opiates and anesthetics, all sense of decorum bee may have ever possessed flees.
she sets down what appears to be a whiskey glass full of espresso on the desk she’s pulled across the entryway to serve as a sort of reception area and swings her legs over it, holding her palm out flat. “sorry, ma’am, you’re a new face ‘round these parts. can i get some identification? can’t be too careful with protected substances.” it’s stupid; bee’s aware, and so is every conscious amaranthine within earshot. everyone knows blossom couldn’t have gotten a third of this far being anyone else, but bee needs a name to put to this new face, and stupid is far from the lowest she’s willing to stoop for it. sitting on her own desk, legs crossed, completely un-acknowledging, isn’t even where the stupid begins! “your calendar as well, if you please.”