platonic & familial actions; flower crown | @obscuritcs
He’s made a habit out of keeping his head lowered whenever there were visitors in his office, oft too glued at the task at hand to offer anything more than a brief flicker of the eyes toward every new crack in the door.
Still, Soma wasn’t so dismissive as to forget his own manners, as he’d already known who it was that entered without much trouble: there was only one person in Fenrir carefree enough to adorn his head with blooms of varying colors anytime she made her presence known.
Since the very first time she did this (with a crown of thorns and roses), it had grown into something of an unorthodox tradition (within an equally unorthodox profession) between the two———and at this point, he’s long stopped asking where and when she had the time to craft such things. The delicately arranged flowers simply remained content atop his hair.
❝As always, you haven’t changed,❞ came the borderline dry—but harmless—remark, eyes taking note of the amusement so clearly embedded in her own. He wondered if there would ever come a day where that impish smirk of hers became anything but. ❝Still, it’s good that you’re here, Lacie. We’ve received a new... or rather, an old case.❞
