"Who did you think I was in the woods, Felix?"

It was a haunting question. One that provoked an instinctive fear that crawled down his back and pricked at his skin.

Felix's jaw grew slack, and much like before, his mind only drew out blanks. Because, while most of his brain barked at him to remain silent, to divert the conversation back to it's original purpose and keep it caged there, another part of him, a small part of him, secretly wished to relieve a piece of this burden he's been housing for the past two decades.

"..."

Why did he want to trust her so badly?

Was it because he felt isolated? Weary? It'd been years since the last time he's entrusted someone with something so personal and vulnerable, that he's almost forgotten what's it felt like to share one's burdensome past with another, or to feel safe in exposing his truest self. The self no one has seen since graduation.

He shook his head, eyes shamefully slipping back to the ground.

Felix couldn't-- not yet, at least.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Felix's gaze kept stuck to the ground.. He felt torn, but didn't understand why.

Why did he hesitate to stay quiet?

Why did he regret pulling the trigger, when normally, he'd be able to swallow down the guilt without trouble?

The sheer amount of questions felt like a haze fogging up his brain. There were, at times, streaks of light that would attempt to break through, but most, if not all, were eventually snuffed out.

When Elisabeth beckoned him to follow, he did without response. Eyes still heavy with thought, he trailed close behind the woman, positioning himself to her right as they approached the green house.

It wasn't until she handed him the Lily that looked up.

"Nothing."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Felix was attentive as she explained the process to him, step by step, and even more so when the shears came out. By the end of the demonstration, his intense stare had nearly burned a hole through her abdomen.

Wordlessly, he reached his arm towards the lilies. His fingers first pulled the bundle of stems together, then, with them all stuck together in a bundle, he'd lift them up. From there, he brought the shears to the ends of it's steams, sniped a bit, noticed it's unevenness, sniped again, noticed it's unevenness, then sniped again, and so on.

All until the stems were far too short of a bouquet.

"They're even."

Using his two fingers to pinch the remaining flowers together, he'd presented the overly cut flowers back to Elisabeth.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

What Elisabeth did was magic in the eyes of the stoic man.

When she initially asked if he had ever worn a boutonniere, he had only shook his head, confused as to where she was going with this. And, even as her nimble fingers went to work, correcting the several mistakes he had made, he was left awestruck. Even to him, and his dull-stricken eyes, the arrangement was elegant in words he couldn't measure. Not only that, but he felt a patch of heat to where her hands had touched him, which warmed up the mewling of his unsettled guilt.

"It looks good."

An understatement, no doubt, but for someone like Felix, it said more than just three simple words.

Eyes still caught in his own reflection, a compliment slipped out from his relaxed tongue. "You're amazing at this."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"If you like the rose, then I'll stick to it," He nodded, eyes flicking back onto hers, "I trust your opinion over mine."

Floristry. For Elisabeth, it seemed to come as naturally as breathing, or compared to Felix, how fighting comes to him. Another stark difference to tally on the board, laced with a hidden similarity that bound them. Somehow, that odd tittering of similarities and differences only drew him closer to her. He wasn't conscious of it, of course, but there wasn't another flower shop he was practicing at during the middle of a workday.

"I understand your feelings."

An odd statement to make, yet, it felt so natural to give out. Because, for once, he did understand, even without wanting to.

"I feel the same way with ice skating."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

...the romanticism of its meaning?

Suddenly, it was hard for him not to recall the paragraphs and paragraphs of text he had diligently read before coming here.

"it's the best gift you can give a girl!" -- Kittykatlover588 had written out.

"It's the definition of LOVE!!!!" -- MaximusDogLover2000 had similarly typed out.

Returning back to reality, he had just caught on fast enough to see the tail end of her pinkish cheeks and broken eye contact. Two things he hadn't seen Elisabeth ever do towards him.

When she returned to the conversation, it explored what he had said, rather than what she had done. A natural sign of nervousness. "Lately, no, but I try to find the time at least once a week," He nodded, rising to his feet. Eyes intently staring back at her, he questioned whether he wanted to approach her with the information he had internally gathered from his memory.

It's not like he would reciprocate those types of feelings, though, if he could, that would explain these lapses of judgment when it comes to her.

"Do you like me, Elisabeth Fiorelli ?"

And like that, he dove right in, almost completely forgetting the original reason why he was here in the first place.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Tilting his head, he intently searched her face for a lick of a hint. If she didn't like him, then why the rose? For someone who seemed so thorough, so thoughtful, it didn't feel like a coincidence.

But, maybe, her feelings similarly mirrored his own-- tangled, and hard to put a finger on.

Pausing, the man mulled over her words carefully, unsure how to take her response.

"Why not?"

For once, he could understand how odd his own question was, and how it randomly sprung up from the backmost pits of his mind. He hadn't ever thought of Elisabeth this way--- no, the mountains of guilt had made lighter thoughts much harder to come across. And, like Elisabeth, his track record of past lovers wasn't the most positive.

BARNABY FINCH , who he had found himself intertwined with, had fizzled out due to work. Most similarly interesting relationships typically end the same way. But, unlike Elisabeth, those experiences don't deter him from future endeavors when they become of interest. Because, to be fair, garnering that interest was half the battle already. So, despite how odd the question may seem, for once, he thought it best follow this said spark of curiosity.

Elisabeth Fiorelli