@rosethcrn
17. The dreaded seventeen. That was the day of the current month, and consequently the number taking up an obnoxious amount of space in his brain, like a tumor that wouldn’t be budged. It was a date that preceded one he couldn’t stand by two days, and since he was regulated to a schedule that only permitted him free reign at night, he figured he ought to prepare in advance.
All that had brought him to a small store, the floral sort. It was the type of place he didn’t often step foot inside, having never been too into plants of any kind. Should he want a gift, or to get one for someone else, he’d sooner stop by a jeweler. Nonetheless, this was a matter of respect, and for whatever reason, flowers had forever been a societal signifer of that - whether it be for dating, weddings, or… funerals. For this occasion alone, he was willing to put his preferences aside.
That didn’t stop him from making a face when he stepped inside, too many conflicting scents assaulting him at once and forcing him to a stiff sneeze. Even when that passed from being more than an irritating tickle at the nose, his eyes were still subjected to the rainbow assortment of flowers that he was too uppity to see as much more than garish. He squinted, taking everything in in a manner that was better suited to someone expecting an attack than mere interest. He’d seen Little Shop of Horrors, okay? Could never be too careful.
When he (of course) wasn’t met with any monstrous aberration of a plant, he finally shuffled up to the store’s counter - one that didn’t have anyone manning it. Hopefully that didn’t mean things were closing up. It was late, sure, but, well… the door hadn’t been locked. If he wasn’t meant to be in here, then the door should have been locked. He nodded to himself, considering that sound enough logic.
In any case, he still needed someone to guide him through the selection process, and it was that alone that stopped him from grabbing what he wanted and leaving. Lazily leaning against the counter, he shifted a hand up to the available call bell, jumping straight into tapping it incessantly, its unpleasant ring filling the store. He didn’t let up, even as he switched into calling out verbally - loud, impatient.
“Hello? Hello?! Helllooo? Anyone here? I need help. Assistance. Customer service.”
