THE CHIME OF THE BELL SIGNALS A VISTOR . as a green gaze is torn from the lily bud, a fingertip ran gently down a petal as connection with the green is severed. even now she cannot help the slight flush of toxins to her skin; a reflex, result of time on the run and the constant whispers of paranoia: that someone is out to harm her flowers ! in the back of her mind. yet at the sight of the customer toxins fade, a slight smile working its way across her lips ----------- simply a girl, around her own age, whom does not seem the sort to come rushing in to damage her flowers .
yet is at the next question that allows her to truly relax, the ‘ customer smile ’ wiped from her jaw and replaced with a grin truly her own. for it appears the other is asking after damian ( her favourite customer . not that she’d tell anyone of course; a shop keeper simply cannot have favourites after all everyone knows that ! ) she responds first with simply a shrug, taking a step towards the other before continuing, “ haven’t seen her today i’m afraid, she pops in to help fairly often but it could be a day or so before she’s back, are you her sister? ” gaze is curious, head titled slightly with the question, damian had never mentioned a sister yet then again their conversations tended to focus around plants more than anything.
all to sudden comes the realisation she’s failed to introduce herself, such a vital move all forgotten, and a flurry of exclamations follow in an attempt to fix her mistake, “ oh ! how rude of me, i’m rose ----------- it’s nice to meetcha’ ” the phrase feels clunky and all together out of place. safe to say she wouldn’t be using that again.
@sherobin liked for a starter .