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“You know, hot stuff, one of these days you’ve really gotta tell me what you do with these. You don’t strike me as a potpourri guy,” Pamela teased as she handed over the box of old flowers and fallen petals. “I’m psychic, you know. It’s necessary for your long-term happiness to share your secret with me.”
They did this every week. Every week, Castiel would respond with something about it not mattering, that it wasn’t Pamela’s business, and all she should care about was that the money provided was the correct amount for the waste products he was purchasing. This time, though, he didn’t answer for so long Pamela started to wonder if he hadn’t heard her, somehow. “My friends say that you’re flirting with me. Are they correct?”
“They are,” Pamela confirmed with a small laugh. She thought she’d been perfectly obvious about that, but who knows, maybe Castiel was bad with signals or something. “And before you ask, no, it’s not just customer service flirting, it’s real. You’re an interesting guy, Castiel, and I would very much like to know what you do with the flowers and byproducts you take off my hands.”
“Very well. Since your interest is genuine, I would be happy to show you – although I’m uncertain how much you’ll be able to appreciate it.” Pamela raised her eyebrow. “I create visual art, and incorporate the flower petals in a way where the scent doesn’t come through. I find it unlikely that you would be able to differentiate between pieces.”
Pamela laughed again. “Thank you for being straightforward about it. You’re probably right, I’m completely blind. Doesn’t mean I’m not interested in hearing you explain what you can!”
“As you wish. When are you available?”
Pamela thought it over. “Market ends in an hour, if today’s not too soon; otherwise any day this week after the store closes at 7. When’s good for you?”
“Today will be fine. If you’re comfortable accepting a ride from me, I can pick you up at the end of the market; if not, I can give you the address.”
Pamela beamed, considering her options. “I wasn’t joking about being psychic. I know you’re a good guy who won’t hurt me or take advantage of me. I’m fine with a ride from you.”
Castiel had been absolutely right about Pamela not being able to properly appreciate his art. She could, to some extent, tell when there was light on her face – more from the attendant heat than anything else, but she did have some very minimal photosensitivity. She could not tell the difference between Castiel holding up a plain glass circle and one that had his artwork.
She could still listen to him describe the process – first, the full flowers were stripped down to petals. Each petal was then inspected, trimmed if necessary, and then sorted by color. The petals were then arranged onto a plastic film, which was in turn carefully layered between two pieces of glass and trimmed. Applied heat would melt the film, causing the pieces of glass to adhere. Once the glass was cool, it could be hung in the sunlight where the petals would act as a form of stained glass, creating color effects. “It sounds delightful, and you have so much passion for it. And just like I can’t really get the full effects of Rufus’s flowers, I can sense the hard work and love he puts into everything – and I can feel it in your work, too.”
“Thank you.” Castiel hesitated, and then pressed a glass circle into her hand. “Then I would like you to have this one. I was thinking of you when I made it.”
Pamela felt the weight of the glass, letting its energy flow into her hand. She smirked as she felt the longing and desire in it. “Wow. You really do like me. I can go ahead and plan on that second date happening.”
“Yes. And now, I believe it’s traditional for a date to include food. My talents do not carry into a kitchen, I’m afraid, but I would be happy to take you to a restaurant or order some food for us. What would you like?”
After a moment’s thought, Pamela decided it was a bit soon to express a desire for sausage. Maybe for an after-dinner snack. “Benny’s has the best gumbo I’ve had since I left Louisiana. That work for you?”
“Dean keeps telling me I should try the fish tacos,” Castiel mused. “Perhaps this would be a good time.”
It took Pamela a beat to decide how to respond to that, mostly while she tried to figure out if Dean was messing with Castiel or just a really big fan of Tex-Mex seafood. Knowing Dean, it could go either way, although she was leaning more toward messing with him. And hey, even if both Dean and Castiel did just mean the food… she could be patient. “Perfect.”