Work Text:
At the beginning of every week, Philippe came into the office with a bouquet of snapdragons from some mysterious admirer. He always made some humorous or teasing comment about Corbeau being some sought-after or desirable bachelor, set the flowers up in a vase, and he’d take care of them for Corbeau throughout the week so that Corbeau only had to look at them or ignore them to his pleasure. The small vase sat at the edge of his desk where it didn’t obscure a client from seeing Corbeau or the table by the couches, depending on his mood, and they lasted about the typical business week. Whoever sent them was lucky Philippe took such great care of them because they only served as an absurdity to Corbeau.
At some point, he’d had enough and waved his hand at Philippe who had just walked in with a few pink and purple snapdragons in a pretty, little arrangement. “Take them out. Figure out who’s sending these and get them to stop. I don’t like this: what if they’re trying to butter me up? What if they’re trying to gain leverage without me knowing? Enough with the flowers.”
Philippe agreed, tossed them into the garbage, and took the bag out of the office. When he came back, he said nothing.
Nothing the next day.
A week went by, no flowers. Nothing. No update.
Curious about it all, Corbeau brought it up again. “Ever find out who sent those flowers? Seems like they stopped.”
“I located the flower shop where the flowers came from and simply told them not to send flowers to our location anymore. I didn’t see a reason to find out the identity of the sender if the flowers would stop.”
And that was it.
But…
Philippe looked like he knew something. He got weird about it. If Corbeau mentioned the flowers, he looked visibly uncomfortable. Did he meet the secret admirer and promised not to say anything? Philippe was a good man, way too good where most people liked to take advantage of goodness. Hating to be one of those people, Corbeau decided to do some digging rather than press him directly.
He easily found the flower shop too, not many sold snapdragons, and that was the sender’s favorite flower to send. Once inside, a woman approached him with a smile. “Can I help you look for something? I'm the owner, my name is Fleur.”
“Yes. So, I used to receive a weekly delivery of snapdragons from this location to my office, I think from here anyway. Do you happen to know the name of the person who would send them? I wanted to thank them personally.” People liked gratitude. They’d be more likely to tell him for a positive reason than the alternative. I’m looking for my stalker to take them out.
She nodded. “Oh, we don’t do deliveries, only carryouts. It’s only me and one other employee. So, unless there’s a major event like a wedding, I can’t leave the store for deliveries.”
He frowned at that.
“But, I know who it is because only one person comes regularly and buys snapdragons! His name is Philippe. He especially loves the blue and purple ones, but the pink ones seem to be a close favorite. I didn’t know who he bought them for, and I’m sorry to say I really thought maybe he had a wife or somebody special because he’d always be so happy walking out of here. Are you two related somehow? Or maybe coworkers?”
Philippe?
Philippe bought them every Monday and walked them in… pretending Corbeau had a secret admirer when really he just did it himself? Why not just pretend the place needed sprucing up? Why not just tell him he bought him flowers?
Ugh and he threw them away after just buying them, he must have been so upset that day!
Corbeau fixed his glasses and looked around. “We work together. Get me a bouquet of long-stemmed baby’s breath.”
“Just baby’s breath?”
He accidentally glared at her, getting her moving quickly instead of awaiting an answer. Mentally he kicked himself for that; she didn’t mean anything by it. No need to intimidate some florist. His mind whirled and whirled with indecision.
She returned to him with a simple bouquet of baby’s breath tied with a white ribbon. “Oh, he didn’t pick up the bouquet this week. Is Philippe okay? Nothing happened right?” Her tone sounded so concerned.
“Don’t worry about it.” He looked at the bouquet and kept replaying that moment Philippe threw out the snapdragons. No emotion. He always looked empty when he was masking emotion. Blank-face Philippe was the scariest emotion out of that man. Who broke you so much that you’re numb?
Philippe didn’t have to tell her anything, he simply never came back here. Every time Corbeau asked him about it, he died a little because he was the one who kept bringing those flowers. Corbeau cursed to himself.
“Did you know flowers like being talked to?” She offered—he must have cursed a little too loudly.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she said with her customer service smile. “They stay alive longer when they hear nice things.”
Ha, it was like she was telling him to watch his language around the flowers. She was funny. She better watch herself…
“I’m leaving my info. I might be back, whenever I do a pickup, charge the same card.” He did just that and left.
When he got to the office, it was later than usual. Philippe sat at the desk, trying to maintain everything and pretending he wasn’t panicking that his boss was late and he was never late arriving to work ever in his life. Surprised he didn’t send helicopters after him. Wonder how long until he would’ve started checking on him, huh.
Corbeau hesitated by the doorway without a plan. What even was the conversation here? Why didn’t you tell me it was you who bought the flowers? I bought these for you to make up for being a jerk? Sorry I made you feel like garbage over a couple of flowers? An apology would only mean he’d have to explain a lot more.
As he walked up to his desk, Philippe stood up and rounded to the front. He also hesitated to catch him up with the morning routine because of obvious reasons.
“Philippe, give these water and put these in the vase.” He stretched out his hands.
Philippe took them without missing a beat. “Yes, Boss.” He turned and set them up as if he called ahead for him to prepare ahead of time.
Once in the vase, they paused simultaneously to stare at them.
“They fit the room, don’t they? Brings the aesthetic together. You know, she called them just a simple bouquet, but I think they look nice without making me look too soft. Highlights my better features.”
Corbeau circled his desk and sat down. “What have you done so far?”
Philippe caught him up eagerly. He set out their schedule, all the important stuff they had to do, and he added a little extra at the end.
“Would you like me to pick up the flowers for you next week, Boss? You went out of your way, and it took time away from your work. And I know how much that bothers you.”
He debated that. He was bold for asking given everything they decided not to talk about just now. “Yes, but I left my information, so charge it to my card. Let’s alternate between flowers. These are my favorite, but I get that you’re here too and like seeing those snapdragons.”
“Yes, sir.”
Philippe never charged his card and always carried in a big bouquet Monday morning so Corbeau could compliment the flowers before starting their workday once again.