crimson eyes are sharp as blades as she scans the text so kindly sent by her boss, the text detailing her next ploy to encourage their customers’ returns. truthfully, she cares naught for such gestures, only playing along for the sake of keeping her job ( though she has no qualms complaining. ) regrettably, the next customer steps into the store far too soon. she cannot quite help the scowl that adorns her face as she turns to them, looking far too out - of - place, far too harsh amongst the gentle hues of the flowers, their quiet elegance.
❝ welcome. ❞ the greeting is gritted out, though her expression remains alarmingly blank – she receives no acknowledgement, however, and while maki has no problem with a lack of human interaction she knows she cannot forego her work.
or, at least, she may have taken such an outlook – had he not lingered in the store, staring at every flower in the store, wandering aimlessly between shelves and never turning to the counter, not even once. with each second that passes, irritation rises, narrowed eyes glowering at him as he wanders the small shop floor. she takes a moment, incredibly brief, to take a flower ( a carnation boasting petals of beautiful yellow ) in her hand, stem twirled between slender fingers.
finally, he approaches, though he is met with no hospitality. barely a sentence is stuttered out, a quiet ❝ what would you recommend – ❞ , before crimson eyes take on an edge of steel, sharpening into blades as the flower is held out, stem extended towards the strange ‘ customer ‘.
❝ take it, and get out. ❞
truthfully, this is the quaintest flower shop he’s ever been to. sometimes, he likes to take flowers home and simply admire them, but he’s realized in recent days that the more cost-effective approach is to admire them in the shop. one of his favourite games to play is to practice description, to describe the flower in excruciating detail, from the colour to the shape of its petals to the angle of the stem. applying symbolism. when they’re freshly watered, he describes the consistency of the droplets.
this time, however, he actually needs flowers. as it turns out, his uncle’s wife’s birthday is today and getting her a present completely slipped his mind. he knows enough about her to recognize that chocolates wouldn’t win her favour. but flowers are elegant and understated, so long as he doesn’t overdo it.
for a moment, he merely stares blankly at the receptionist, who seems to want to kill him where he stands. hasn’t he read about something like this? a girl who looks like she wants to kill you giving you flowers? it’s an archetype... tsundere, it’s called. but people don’t fall in love just like that. she probably just really wants to go back to checking her phone and feels nervous with him around.
her words are clear and yet he has a hard time believing them even as he takes the flower--a yellow flower, its ruffles and colour almost making it seem like a food item, like boiled pasta. “u-uh...” something tells him not to argue. in retrospect, it’s probably the way she’s glaring at him. “o-okay. um... how much is it?”
