bigapplesauce | buying the flowers yourself [closed]

Dana sighs in relief when she enters the shop in the morning. The summer heat is nothing like what she's used to, all sticky with humidity and the particular city smell that gets everywhere. It gets a bit monotonous, between that outside smell and the sterile recycled air of the office. So the flower shop is a welcome change, the air full of the smell of potting soil and growing things instead of asphalt and garbage.

She first discovered the store on a meandering quest for bloodstones, and to be honest she didn't expect to find any in the city. But it would be nice if she could have a little reminder of home, and the searching kept her mind busy when all she was doing at the Romac offices was filing and faxing and getting food. It's not that she was ungrateful for the way the faction set her up with a place to live and work to do, but Dana felt like she could be doing more. She needed a way to ground herself, to remember where she came from, even if she would be staying here in this world for, possibly, quite a while. Hence the bloodstones.

The rock shop she eventually found tucked away in the midtown flower district was much better than some of the strange 'new age' stores that claimed all their crystals had special healing properties. Dana was never terribly religious, but she could tell at a glance that the selection at more metaphysical stores was not going to be what she needed. 'Rock Star Crystals' however, is much more down to earth as far as these things go. The fist-sized chunk of raw bloodstone that immediately caught her eye on the chalcedony shelf is far out of her price range, but the staff were friendly and willing to hold it for her for a while.

On her second visit (settling for some beads to make a bracelet, if she can't have the large piece just yet), Dana noticed a sign on the door of the adjoining suite advertising the need for an assistant. It would be nice to have a little extra money, she thought, and a change of scenery, a reason to frequent the place in the city she felt most relaxed. So she went to the little flower shop and asked about the job and smiled. People seemed to respond well to her smile.

Two weeks later she's started to settle into the rhythm of the floral business, the contrast between the quiet thoughtfulness of being surrounded by plants and the rush of processing and sending out orders. Dana's sitting at the workbench pruning an arrangement that'll go out for delivery tomorrow, when she hears the bell ring on the front door.

"Come on in!" she calls brightly. "I'll just be a moment."

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Despite the amount of talking he does to his plants, Crowley is not so sentimental that he actually misses them once he cleans up his flat. It just... doesn't look right without the plants. Too bare, and not in a fashionable minimalist way either. He resists for a couple days, faintly paranoid that Lucifer will pop back unexpectedly and rake him over the coals for his un-demonic attachment to mortal gauds and fripperies, but it doesn't happen, and Crowley eventually decides: fuck it, he's getting some new plants.

So he wanders down to the Flower District (handy, that), speculatively eyeing storefronts as he passes them. He picks, only somewhat at random, one in an old stonework building, more than a little shabby looking. For all Crowley has a taste for the finer things in life, New York is a city, like London, with some of the best stuff hidden under grime and carelessly painted industrial doors.

The shop, when he finds it up a flight of stairs, is small, but-- and here he'd been right-- clearly a flourishing business. Some of these are flowers like suburbanites might get down to shops to liven up their kitchens, but most of them are miles above that. Artistic arrangements of the sort that grace cherrywood tables in the foyers of Fortune 500 offices, delicately sculpted into improbable shapes; there are miniature gardens of succulents and huge baskets overflowing with greenery; birds of paradise and calla lilies and orchids as well as more humble daisies and hydrangeas.

Crowley grins. He can feel his fingers twitch. He hopes they do delivery.

A cheerful female voice calls out from a back room, and he waves a careless hand in its direction. 'No rush.'

He's occupied rubbing the waxy leaf of an anthurium between thumb and forefinger when the owner of the voice emerges. It's a young woman with a halo of springy curls, brushing her hands on a cheery floral apron that looks like she nicked it off her grandmother. She looks, Crowley thinks, like the kind of person who doesn't just smile at customers because her continued employment depends on it.

Crowley turns smoothly and, more out of habit than anything else, gives her a charming grin. 'Hi.'

The customer has the air of someone who knows what he wants, or at least he dresses like someone rich and impatient. Dana's gotten good at recognizing those types. Normally one of the other employees might take over this sale, since Dana's botanical knowledge when she came into the job was limited mostly to succulents and plants useful in first aid. On this day, though, The owner's out on a business lunch and Dana has been trusted with holding the fort, so she'll just have to do her best.

She returns the smile, though the charm sails right over her head. "Hi, is there anything I can help you find? I um, I just want to let you know right away, I'm not the most knowledgeable person on staff so, just, I apologize in advance."

Oh dear, that was really awkward. Dana clears her throat. "Do you have an account with us already, or perhaps you're just browsing?" She tilts her head, trying to get a read on the man's intention, but he's almost aggressively casual. And beyond that, somewhat familiar too, like she's seen him someplace before. But in a city this large, that's ridiculous.

buying the flowers yourself [closed]

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