Chapter Text
The first meeting was pure coincidence.
It had been a slow day at the shop, at best. Flowers should have been selling better than they were, given it was a cloudy day in late spring, leaving Fraos bored in their shop. They were using their time to read a book behind the counter, until the bell above the door jingles softly, contrasting the new arrival's commanding presence. Dressed like she was, she looks completely out of place among the small shop's delicate petals and earthy tones. How peculiar.
"Welcome! Take a look around and ask me anything, please," they yelled through the store, glancing up from their page after marking where they were with their finger. The lady wore a well-fitted white blouse with seemingly satin black dress pants, tailored to fit her long legs perfectly. Its matching jacket was thrown loosely over her shoulders, with her long champagne blond hair tied into a meticulous high ponytail that flowed down her back. She seemed to head straight for the tall plants and began purposefully browsing through them. Fraos shrugged; less work for them if she knew her flowers.
After 5 minutes, the lady came up to the counter empty-handed but armed with an apologetic smile. Fraos looked up. "Hey, I was wondering if you have any snapdragons. I don't see them displayed, is it possible they might be in the back?" she asked with an easy, practiced smile, clasping her hands together. Fraos is startled; for some reason, they had not expected her voice to be so... kind. Her appearance made Fraos expect the woman's voice to be more orotund and resonant. Instead, it was still firm, but a lot more mellow.
"Ah..." Fraos croaked out, before remembering they were the store clerk and were asked the question. "Oh, yeah, let me go check!" They stumbled through the back door, scanning the shelves as they walked to the back, looking for the signature bell-like petals on a tall stalk. They cracked a smile when they finally found some light red ones. They hadn't bloomed yet, but they'll bring them to the front to show the fancy lady. Picking up the heavy pot and resting it against the rubber apron, they make their way back.
"We still have these, if you'd like them," Fraos says as soon as they are back in view, huffing and placing the pot on the counter, spilling pebbles of wet dirt all over. The lady's eyes seemed to sparkle, and she smiled a little brighter. "Yes, these will do perfectly, thank you," she notes, already reaching for her wallet and fishing out the metal card. Fraos smiled, looking at the underside of the flowerpot to find the price tag, absentmindedly asking: "Would you like me to package it? Is it a present?"
"No, no need, it's a me-present," she giggled. Fraos chuckled, punching in the numbers on the cash register. "I get that," they mumble after the socially acceptable reply-time was over.
"That'll be 29,95. Card?"
"Yeah, thanks," she quickly pays and takes the flowers, holding them to her side and dirtying her pristine white blouse. She doesn't seem to mind, so Fraos doesn't mention it. She walks out, realizing she is going back in public, her carefree smile turns back into a practiced neutral expression. The door shuts closed, and Fraos watches through the window as she crosses the street to a black BMW and effortlessly gets in. The store clerk leans their chin in their hand with a huff. What a person to buy flowers.
The second meeting was... Fraos would also like to say a coincidence.
About a week or so later, they went to work to see a peculiar man in black talking with their boss, Juicebox. They were wearing a hat and seemed to wear a facemask. Fraos frowned, thinking the worst when they saw the slightly tense but friendly smile on their boss's face. The florist slowly made their way towards the shop, hoping to sneak past with only a 'good morning', but of course, Juicebox wouldn't be so merciful. When they saw the brunet closing in, she called out and waved them over.
"Fraos! Perfect timing; this is Dr. Black. Sir, this is Fraos: the best florist in town." The extrovert introduced with a little too many hand gestures to seem casual, "I'm certain your decorations will be top-notch in the hands of 'em." Fraos looked at her, a thousand tints of confusion in their green eyes. Juicebox simply winked, and a strained business smile carved its way up her face, bordering on looking painful. Now, Fraos was just plain concerned.
"Alright-y," The man clicked his tongue, posture straightening as if the previous conversation he was having had been cut short without his consent. "I reckon it will. This party is very high-class, and the Boss wants it to look as good as she wants to present." The doctor, bless his soul, explained the context as if noticing Fraos' internal distress. Good flowers, nothing bad. A boss party or something other high-class. No biggy. Definitely. "She handpicked this shop to handle this, after all."
Handpicked? Fraos threw the word around in their head, but settled on not knowing who would handpick this flower store. There was a more well-known one just on the other side of town, and the flowers here were definitely not the cheapest ones around. Blame competitors for that.
Fraos decided it was best not to ask questions. If this "Boss" wanted flowers, they'd make flowers - it was that simple. The rest was none of their business. Dr. Black and Juicebox moved inside to iron out the payment and delivery details, while Fraos zoned out and made mental notes about arrangements. Tall pieces for dramatic entrances, something fragrant but not overpowering for the dining tables.
When the man finally tipped his hat and left, Juicebox let out a breath and leaned against the counter. "Big deal, this one," she muttered, though her eyes didn't meet Fraos'. "Do a good job and... well, let's just say it's good for the shop." Fraos raised an eyebrow. "You mean... like a review on the city site?" Juicebox's smirk thinned. "Something like that.” Then she spun her chair away, already busying herself with invoices.
The rest of the day was normal enough - roses, lilies, and a small bouquet for a nervous man proposing to his girlfriend. But as Fraos locked up that night, they noticed a black BMW parked across the street, engine idling. The windows were tinted, but the glow of a cigarette ember flared briefly from inside.
They told themselves it was nothing. Just a car. And definitely not the car they swore that fancy lady they remembered well (for some reason) left in last time. Just a coincidence.
The third meeting was; well, at this point, Fraos wasn't sure they believed in coincidence anymore.
The night of the party came sooner than Fraos expected. They arrived early at the given address - an expensive-looking rooftop penthouse - to set up, a rolling cart full of vases and greenery rattling as they pushed it through the gold-trimmed elevator doors, another vase in hand. The place was stunning even before decoration; glass walls revealed the skyline, polished floors reflecting the glow of the early evening.
Waiting for them at the entrance was a brunet man in a crisp navy suit, fiddling with his tie like it was choking him. "Ah, you must be the florist," he said, voice friendly but with a faint tremor. "I'm Ochyt," He reached out a hand for Froas to shake, realizing only after an awkward 4 seconds that their hands were both occupied with flowers and greens. They retracted their hand and rubbed their neck as if that was always the intention. "Uh, I'm sort of... the guy who makes sure everyone who's not a guest doesn't get lost. Also, I was told to help you carry things.”
Fraos liked him immediately. He was clearly nervous but trying to be helpful. Together they arranged towering orchids by the main balcony doors, filled crystal bowls with floating candles and blooms, and placed tall snapdragon stems in vases lining the bar. Fraos had taken those with them on a whim this morning.
When guests started to arrive, Ochyt gave Fraos an encouraging nod before vanishing into the crowd to do whatever a man like him did during these types of events. Fraos lingered near the rooftop garden, making sure nothing wilted under the heat of the evening lamps.
Then the music softened, and an expectant hush rolled through the crowd. All eyes turned toward the sweeping staircase.
And there she was.
The snapdragon lady.
Champagne-blonde hair perfectly done, wearing a deep emerald dress that caught every stray glint of light. She smiled - that same warm smile from the shop - before stepping up to a crystal podium.
"Welcome, everyone," she began, her voice carrying with the ease of someone who had done this before. "I'm so glad you could join me tonight."
It took an - in Fraos' professional introvert opinion - unnecessary amount of time before all the festivities concluded.
The party had been an exhausting blur of gold-rimmed champagne flutes, satin gowns, and conversations that sounded like business negotiations disguised as pleasantries. Fraos had kept to their corner near the rooftop garden installations they had arranged, dutifully replacing every slightly imperfect rose and misting orchids under the gaze of the city's glittering skyline. They were sure they'd feel out of place in the crowd with their less-than-fancy, more-than-casual outfit of loose khaki pants and an un-ironed blouse.
Smiley, the hostess and boss Dr. Black must have mentioned (and the one whose name Froas found out from the hiring contract), was charm and diamond from head to toe. Her laugh never failed to draw attention, and yet, when her gaze briefly met Fraos' across the crowd, there was something calculating there. Not unfriendly, not hostile… just aware. Too aware. It made Froas uncomfortable to feel that watched.
When the night ended, Fraos left with aching feet, grateful for the cool night air and the fact that they didn't have to carry everything back to the shop as they walked the several blocks toward the nearest bus stop. It was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional echo of late-night laughter. They were about to head down a narrow side street when they heard the low growl of a car engine behind them.
A sleek, black BMW slid into view and slowed to a crawl beside the sidewalk. The tinted back seat window lowered, and there she was again: the snapdragon lady, her champagne-blonde hair now loose over her shoulders, framing a face that looked softer without the party's rigid polish.
"Need a ride?" she asked, her voice just as warm as the first time, though the question felt heavier somehow.
Fraos blinked. "I'm fine, thanks. It's just a few blocks."
Her lips curled slightly, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. "Humor me. It's not the best street to walk alone at night." She glanced at the darkened alley ahead, making Froas turn too, and for the first time, they noticed the shadow of two people leaning against the brick wall.
Something about her tone made refusal feel... unwise. Against their better judgment, Fraos opened the door and slid in. The interior smelled faintly of leather and some expensive perfume they couldn't name.
As the car eased forward, Fraos caught sight of the driver in the rearview mirror - the same masked man from the shop, Dr. Black. "So," the snapdragon lady said lightly, as though they were simply chatting over coffee, "I hear you did the flowers tonight. They were beautiful."
Fraos swallowed. "Thanks. It's... what I do." They turn to look at her, tone confused. "You were the one who ordered the flowers from my shop specifically, no?" She pursed her lips at them. "I did, just making conversation is all," She shrugged, "I really did like them."
The interior was almost too quiet, save for the low purr of the BMW's engine. Streetlights slid across Smiley's face in pale gold stripes, highlighting the sharp curve of her jaw and the faintest trace of amusement tugging at her mouth. Her dress sparkled in the low light, just like at the party.
Fraos sat stiffly, hands folded in their lap like a schoolkid on the first day, the weight of the silence pressing in. "So," she said again, slower this time, "do you always leave in such a hurry?"
Fraos shrugged. "Only social... things... Not really my scene. I'm there to work, not... mingle." Froas made a gesture with their hand before dropping it back to their lap. "That's a shame." She turned slightly toward them, eyes lingering. "You'd have been the most interesting person in the room."
Fraos almost laughed, almost said 'you must not get out much', but the way Dr. Black's hands gripped the wheel kept the joke in their throat. Instead, they settled for, "I'm fine with flowers being my main audience."
"I believe you," she replied, almost warmly. Then, after a beat, "You work with Juicebox a lot?"
"Every day." Fraos shifted, wondering why she asked like she already knew. "She's... good to work for. Let's me do my thing." Smiley hummed, still looking, never not looking, like she was storing the answer away. "Loyalty's rare. Hold onto it."
The rest of the ride passed in a haze of quiet observation; Smiley watching the streets, Fraos watching the way the driver seemed to know exactly which turns to take without looking at the signs or asking directions from them.
When the BMW finally pulled up outside their apartment complex, Smiley glanced at the darkened entrance, then back at Fraos. "I'll see you again soon."
It wasn't a question.
Fraos stepped out, murmured a polite "Good night," and stood on the sidewalk as the car rolled away, the taillights bleeding red into the night until they disappeared.
They waited for another 2 minutes before fishing the key out of their messenger bag and unlocking the front door. It was only on their way up in the elevator that their stomach dropped to the annoyingly smooth tiles.
How did she know their address?
...
Fraos checked the locks to their apartment and the windows a worrying 7 times before finally heading to bed.