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Todd does not like flowers.
At first, the florist job is temporary, and he only takes it because he’s desperate. As in, two missed rent payments and no electricity to his flat desperate. So he takes the job, and is glad to find out it consists mainly of making the elderly florist cups of coffee and sweeping up the soil that finds its way onto the floor.
And then Marie has her stroke, and her son is in New Zealand doing something with sheep, and out of respect, he takes over the shop so Marie can pay her medical bills.
But he still hates flowers.
-
“So what would you recommend for a bouquet to say ‘Can I marry your daughter?’”
Todd has to bite back an irritated response, since it’s the fifth person this week who wants an oddly specific message that he can’t directly translate to flowers. Because he hates them. “Well… How about, uh… Carnations. Red ones. Because they, ah, symbolize the passion of your love. Then, um… baby’s breath, because… she is their child. And a tulip to signify maturity.” Todd gives a nod that he thinks makes him look like he knows what he’s talking about.
The young woman in front of him gives a bright smile. “That sounds brilliant! How much will that be?”
“$10.50,” Todd responds, and makes a note of the bullshit he’s just spouted on the back of the receipt he hands to her. “If you want to take a seat over there, I’ll have it sorted in just a minute.”
The woman nods, pushing the money across the counter before taking out her phone and perching on one of the chairs by the door. Todd grabs the paper and heads out to the back, where all the flowers rest in buckets of water and Alice, the teenager he’s hired to help out on weekends is normally on her phone or smoking.
But not today.
Today, there is a man in an upsettingly yellow jacket standing in the back instead, holding out a bouquet of flowers wrapped up in polka-dot blue cellophane.
This is certainly not Alice.
“Hi!”
“Who the fuck are you?” Todd hisses.
The man beams and rocks forward on the balls of his feet. “Dirk. Dirk Gently, nice to meet you,” he chirps, and rustles the bouquet at Todd. “Here, I made it all for you. Although, everything you’ve just told that lady is a lie, do you know that? Actually, I’m sure you do – you’re the florist. Also, I hope you don’t mind me taking a little… artistic liberty with the wrapping. I thought the blue would go rather nicely with the-“
“Shut up!” Todd bursts out, snatching the bouquet as gently as an angry flower shop owner can.
Dirk purses his lips and quips; “You’re welcome.”
“Sorry, forgive me for not thanking you for breaking into my- the shop and tampering with the stock!” Todd snaps, trying to keep his voice down. “Wait here. I’ll… deal with you momentarily.” He pauses. “Do I need to tie you up, or are you gonna stay put?”
The man flashes him a bright smile. “No need for bondage! I’m quite happy to remain!”
Todd stares at him in disbelief a second longer, before taking the flowers to the patient customer. She’s grateful, and starts chattering away. In the end, Todd has to walk her to the door to get the woman to shut up, before he can lock the shop door and turn the sign over to “Closed”.
Within a moment, Dirk has bounced through the back door, and hovers around the till area, before pulling himself up to perch on the countertop. Todd gives an irritated sigh before sitting in the seat the customer has just vacated.
“What are you doing here? Who even are you?”
“I’m so glad you’ve asked,” the man brightens up again, enthusiastic at the prospect of talking about his mission. “The universe brought me here. You see, I’m a detective – holistically, of course – and there was a card for this shop in the pocket of the jacket of a friend of mine – Farah’s very nice, although a little scary, you’d like her – but I stole said jacket and it may or may not have gotten a little… chemically damaged on a case, so I thought I would get her some flowers. To apologise. And because the universe thinks I should.” There is a long silence. Dirk remains grinning throughout.
Todd takes a breath and opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Then opens it. “…are you high?”
-
Dirk is insistent that he picks the flowers that go into the bouquet – “Because I know you don’t know a thing about the language of flowers, so I’m going to pick it based on which ones look the most suitable for a one-woman militia.” – and he tips Todd generously enough that Todd almost forgives the breaking-and-entering. And then he waltzes out of the shop and Todd’s life like a yellow-clad hurricane.
When he’s gone, Todd feels oddly uncomfortable in the quiet.
-
It is three weeks before Todd sees him again. This time, Dirk enters the shop like a normal person, now clad in a crimson jacket and jeans that could have been sprayed on for how tight they are.
Todd doesn’t always notice how tight his customers’ jeans are.
He’s just finishing up serving a particularly frustrating customer –“I’d like something that says ‘I like the sex’ but not quite ‘I like you’” – when the bell above the doorway signals Dirk’s entry, and despite the tight jeans, Todd sighs inwardly, unsure he can handle another session of non-stop chatter about the universe.
“Good luck with the—“
“Hi!” Dirk beams. “I need some flowers.”
The previous customer shoots a dirty glance at Dirk for his interruption, before shuffling out of the shop clutching a bunch of flowers for his mistress.
Todd huffs, and mutters; “I guessed, since you’re at a florist's,” before running a hand through his hair.
“Ha! Quite the comedian, I see,” Dirk is unfazed by Todd’s lack of enthusiasm, and delicately strokes the petals of a rose on the counter. “I came in through the front door this time, especially for you! You’re welcome.”
Todd bats his hand away from the flower lightly, earning an affronted expression from the detective. “Don’t touch that.”
“Rude. Anyway, I need a bouquet that says ‘Sorry I crashed the car that I found on your driveway’,” Dirk says leaning against the counter in a way that encroaches just slightly on Todd’s personal space.
“I don’t think we’ve got a bouquet that says ‘Sorry for the car theft’, but maybe I could do a wreath.”
Dirk rolls his eyes dramatically. “It’s not theft. I said, I found the car. At worst, it’s… questionable borrowing. And it’s what the universe wanted, anyway. But I crashed it – also the universe, most likely – so now I need to say sorry. A wreath would be great. Mourning the loss of a car that may or may not have been theirs.”
Todd nods. “Sure. Okay. Do you want to pick them this time or…?” He gestures to the posters on the wall, which Dirk ignores.
“No, I trust you completely, Todd.”
“Sure. Take a seat,” the smaller man says, and tries to ignore the warmth in his chest at the knowledge he has this strange man’s trust.
It’s only after he’s sent Dirk away with an elegant ivy wreath, dotted with lilies that he realizes he’d never actually told the other man his name.
-
“Todd!”
The shop has been blissfully quiet all morning, and the intrusion to the silence would generally be unwelcome, but Todd is surprised to find himself pleased to hear the crisp British voice.
He looks up from the catalogue – Gardeners’ Dream; unfortunate, since he hates flowers, and most certainly doesn’t dream of them – and grins just slightly. “Hey, Dirk. Long time no see.”
That’s a lie – since the car theft wreath, Dirk has visited the florist almost weekly, each time requesting flowers that can convey his apologies for events Todd can barely believe – “Sorry my shark-kitten ate your dog” stands out as Todd’s most unusual request yet. The last time he’d visited was just two days ago, purchasing a large bouquet of long-stemmed freesias and once again, tipping generously.
“Yes, rather unfortunate – I got a little caught up with a lovely young assassin who feels it’s her universe-dictated duty to end my life-“
“Wait, someone tried to kill you?” Todd frowns, unable to tell if he’s telling the truth or not.
In response, the detective waves a hand dismissively. “Well, yes, but it’s all sorted now. And I’m not dead. So.”
“So.”
“Yes.”
There’s a silence.
“Did you want something to say ‘Thanks for not assassinating me’ or…?” Todd asks, quirking an eyebrow. Dirk considers this for a brief moment, before seemingly deciding against it.
“No… No, I don’t need flowers today. I wanted to- Well- How do you feel about coffee?”
Todd pauses. “I… like it? Why?”
Dirk sighs, clearly frustrated by his friend’s inability to keep up. “No. I mean with me. As a, hmm, date?”
Todd thinks it would be amusing to let the detective remain a little flustered, but he also thinks it might be cruel. “I think I’d like a hmm-date with you.”
Dirk beams, and writes his number on one of the business cards sitting on the counter. “Excellent.”
Todd takes the card with an almost bashful grin. “Just- Don’t bring me flowers.”
-
Later, at the café, Dirk presents him with a rose, which Todd tells him is incredibly cliché and uninventive. Dirk threatens to take it back, but Todd keeps it anyway.
Maybe he doesn’t hate flowers so much.