Chapter Text
“It’s nearly that time of year, my love.” Teagan smiled, cupping the blossom of the rose in her palm. “Aren’t you excited?”
Rodger chuckled, gently setting down his porcelain teacup on the glass table. “Of course I am. It’s wonderful when they visit.”
“Good.” Teagan nodded softly, before snipping off the bud of the flower and tossing it. “Though, Dandy will most certainly make an appearance along with them all.”
“Well, we couldn’t do it without him, could we?” The magnifying glass queried, raising an eyebrow.
An airy, quick giggle escaped the piece of white and golden china in front of him, as she continued to prune the plants of their.. Less than useful parts. “I suppose he does deserve some grace for that.”
The greenhouse soon fell quiet, the comfortable silence only broken by the snips of the garden scissors in Teagan’s hand or occasionally Rodger sipping his tea. It was tranquil. Quite serene, if the two did say so themselves.
“Cara mia, would you say Shrimpo’s been… Off, lately?” Rodger finally spoke up.
Teagan hummed thoughtfully. “How so? I mean, he’s quite.. Rough around the edges, normally.”
“Exactly that.” The detective sighed, slightly anxiety seeping into his tone. “He’s been… Less like himself, it feels.”
“He’s growing up. He’s bound to change.” The cup finished up with the last decapitated stem and turned back to her husband, a look of sadness on her face. “Nothing stays the same forever. Death is always looming just around the corner, just like change.”
Rodger gave a half-hearted chuckle once more. He leaned on the table, resting his head on his hands. “Of course. You’re right, Mon Cher.”
Teagan smiled softly and walked closer, placing a sweet kiss on the top of his head.
“I need to go check on Shrimpo, make sure he’s putting that hatchet to good use. How about you go see if Toodles wants to fence with you?”
Her husband nodded, with little conviction, and watched as she left. The faint smell of her French perfume lingered and he breathed it in, bracing himself with it before heading out of the Greenhouse himself.
—
Shrimpo wasn’t at home. He hated being at home.
He was out in the woods, hunting… Whatever, really. He saw a fat bird? Shot right through the eye. Squirrel? Shot. Basically any kind of game.
Until the crustacean came across something new. Looking down from his perch atop a high branch in a tree, he saw another toon. A purple music box. The one he just couldn't seem to stop seeing.
He had half a mind to shoot an arrow at him the first time he had seen the other boy, before he registered it wasn’t anything exactly edible. He felt his chest heat up uncomfortably, like it was collapsing as Shrimpo watched the boy below him.
Then, the other toon turned and they both made eye contact, if only for a split moment, before Shrimpo pulled himself higher up into the brush, out of view.
“That’s not good…” The shrimp mumbled to himself, anxious as all high hell as his heartrate failed to fall.