Chapter Text
Adrien’s nose twitched as he entered the foyer. There was some kind of scent in the air, something that hadn’t been there this morning. He sneezed.
Nathalie approached, carrying a small bouquet. The scent got stronger as she approached. “Adrien, are you getting ill?”
“No, the smell of the bouquet is making my nose itchy . Is that mint in there?”
Nathalie sniffed. “It is. Your father has requested that I put this out in the trash, where it belongs.”
“Wait- I see a card on it. It must be a gift.” Adrien looked up from the card. “Even if it’s just fanmail, we shouldn’t throw it out. Who gave it to us?”
The woman sighed. “It’s from your Aunt Amelie. Supposedly it’s a thank-you for allowing her and Felix to visit.”
“That was nice of them. Why are we throwing it out?”
“Because this wasn’t intended to be nice.”
“Huh? How is that possible? Giving flowers is a nice gesture! ”
Nathalie tilted her head. “Adrien, do you know anything about the language of flowers?”
“Like, red roses mean love? That sort of thing?”
“Roses aren’t the only flowers that carry a message. Go look up the meaning for sunflowers, snapdragons and mint; then you’ll see why your father is throwing this out.”
“Okay…” Adrien watched Nathalie as she marched outside to the waste bin storage. Aunt Amelie didn’t have to send us anything, he thought. Maybe his father was reading too much into the gift; throwing it out seemed harsh.
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Surfacing from the depths of the Internet, Adrien blew out a breath. Okay, maybe Père has a point.
Sunflowers; false riches and pride.
Snapdragons; presumption or deception.
Mint: suspicion.
If it weren’t for the mint, Adrien could have passed it off as being just a nice bunch of flowers with no real meaning behind it. But he’d never heard of mint in a bouquet- and that argued for his father’s interpretation being right. Aunt Amelie is sending a message. And that message is- she doesn’t trust him.
But that wasn’t a surprise, after the fuss she’d made during her visit. There wasn’t much Adrien could do, since he had even less of an idea what had happened to Mother than his father did.
But the flowers had given him ideas. One of his mother’s favorite holidays was coming up- and now he knew just what to do about it.
Plagg looked up from his afternoon Camembert and sighed. There was always trouble whenever he saw that look on Adrien’s face.