The sanctity of a library was one of Gideon's most favored domains. It lacked the rigid sterility of a lab, the pomp of a crowded museum. It was a cozy retreat for those in want of respite and the quiet acquisition of knowledge.

This library in particular - within his own university - had been his home for countless mornings, afternoons, and evenings. It was comfortable. Familiar. Every inch recognizable, unassuming, and predictable. He felt he could point and name any of the tomes on the 5th floor, where the shelves were lined with mostly STEM-focused works.

Today, however, an anomaly appeared.

The subtle fragrance was the first thing that caught the professor's attention. Amidst the huddle of sleep and shower-deprived students was a lingering, floral aroma. Not an artificial scent, as would be expected.

No, real roses. Adorned like a cascading crown on the head of a golden-haired woman.

His gaze lingered on her for longer than he would normally allow. After a moment too long, Gideon cleared his throat and turned away. She was here to work, after all, not to be ogled by the faculty.

He had work to do, too. A copy A History of Zoonoses and Sapronoses was soon located and plucked from the shelves. It was a hefty volume and annoyingly unwieldy to try and open and peruse standing up, so Gideon scanned the tables for an open spot to sit.

As fate would have it, there was only one open seat at the table across from the golden-haired woman.

On his way to claim the spot he passed by her, his umber eyes catching on some of the key words written in her notes. It peaked a fleeting moment of curiosity within him, but nothing more.

Gideon sat, but did not immediately move to open his book. Instead, his gaze shifted outward toward the window, where he appraised the university grounds and the sprawling city beyond.

Elisabeth Fiorelli
mission: PUTTING ON A FRONT

☉

In his periphery he saw the pen fly. Heard it land on his book with a soft, metallic click.

From Gideon's perspective, it all seemed rather purposeful. What were the odds that she'd lose control of her pen as soon as he sat down?

His umber eyes slid to the edge of his vision, but his head didn't immediately turn from the window. Instead he watched for a moment or two, his gaze traveling from the pen, up her outstretched arm, and landing on the woman's pleasant face.

In comparison, most would call his usual expression severe. Lacking in emotion, unsettlingly blank. Some would even go so far as to say he looked perpetually annoyed. A serious case of resting bitch face, to be sure. And yet with the slightest smirk his countenance changed entirely; it became clear that Gideon found humor in this little gesture of hers, not annoyance.

His face shifted forward, facing her now. A hand went toward his book as if he were about to open it, but instead picked up the pen she had volleyed over before she could do it herself.

Gideon then extended his own arm and offered it to her, their fingers lightly touching during the exchange.

Elisabeth Fiorelli
mission: PUTTING ON A FRONT

☉

“Of course.” Gideon replied lowly, as to respect the sanctity of the library. On any other occasion the professor’s gaze would have fallen back to his book, given that his time was always short and he never really seemed to have much to waste. Now, however, his eyes remained fixed on the woman’s own enchanting green.

Casually, in the same movement that she took her pen, Gideon pinched the pale pink petal that had fallen between his thumb and index finger, rolling it softly back and forth.

The domestication of the Rosa genus was an intriguing tale. Many commercial species were genetically modified for their color or their fullness or even their longevity. Elusively, many geneticist had tried their hand at developing a true blue rose, to no avail - yet. These are the sorts of things that came to mind as Gideon appraised the petal in his hand.

That, and questions about its owner.

Was she a student? Undergrad or graduate? A new lecturer, perhaps, in the Department of Plant Biology?

What was her name?

Elisabeth Fiorelli
mission: PUTTING ON A FRONT

☉

The scrawling of a pen pulled him from his idle thoughts. Even more so when a pad of paper was pushed toward him. Gideon's umber gaze refocused on the woman across from him, his expression one of pleasant surprise.

Her instigations were rather persistent... but not in an off-putting way. In fact, when he looked down to read the scribbled question, a slight grin pulled at the edges of his lips. A petal for his thoughts, hm?

Gideon's eyes flicked to hers for a moment, then returned to the page. He took in the rest of the paper, scanned through her notations, and then picked up her pen to respond.

'What cultivar of rose are you wearing?'

The flower was beautiful, whatever it was, and Gideon supposed that was the point. But his inquisitive mind was never quite quelled and he loved labels for things he hadn't yet had the pleasure of learning about. Plus, he was curious to see how much plant biology she already knew outside of the textbook in front of her.

Elisabeth Fiorelli
mission: PUTTING ON A FRONT

☉

The pleasure his question elicited was gratification enough. Yet the way her upturned lips pressed apart to reveal silent laughter, the sharp glint of green in her eyes as sunlight shone through the window beside them... it stirred a forgotten feeling in his chest that Gideon hadn't felt in a long, long time.

He ignored it for now.

Looking down at her response, Gideon's own pleasure continued to be outdone. Using the correctly formatted trinomen for the rose subspecies was a nice touch which he appreciated. The fact that she was the one who'd grown it, too, was an unhidden surprise - his eyebrows raised slightly at reading that part.

Still, she had the credentials to prove it: a business card slipped ever so stealthily into his hand as she offered her pen.

'Perhaps I will be in the near future.'

He wrote, but paused briefly to glance at her left hand.

'Fiorelli Floristry... is it a family business? A joint venture with your husband, perhaps?'

Elisabeth Fiorelli
mission: PUTTING ON A FRONT

☉

A lone rose blooming wild...

Gideon thought briefly of Charlotte as he read over Elisabeth Fiorelli's response.

Where there once was a heavy tan line outlining his ring finger, it had faded with time... now there were no traces of his past marriage to be found. No physical traces, anyway.

His first thought upon reading her question was, 'not anymore' but that was a little somber for a first meeting, wasn't it?

'Not currently. But I know who to call when I do.'

A light smirk tugged at the edge of his lips as he pushed the pad back to her side of the table. Between the pen and paper he'd tucked his own business card, which detailed Dr. Gideon Graves' various positions and contact information.

Elisabeth Fiorelli
mission: PUTTING ON A FRONT

☉