[Gepard recognizes the woman. Vaska. She'd been the one who sold him some lilies before his last tour of duty. Reassured him that they were rather sturdy, no matter what he did they'd find a way of surviving. He gives her a little smile, hoping that he won't have to explain that they actually did die. It's miserable. He knew a lot of the florist staff by name, knew what some of their lives were like, and a lot of them probably assumed he had a lush apartment.
It's not lush. He knows it, his sisters knows it, and now a stranger calling himself Figaro knows it.
His attention is fixed back on Figaro as he hopes against all hope that the staff of Eversummer Florist won't ask him questions about his...
...friend.]
A succulent? [That's a new suggestion.] I never tried growing one. They always seemed so...
no subject
It's not lush. He knows it, his sisters knows it, and now a stranger calling himself Figaro knows it.
His attention is fixed back on Figaro as he hopes against all hope that the staff of Eversummer Florist won't ask him questions about his...
...friend.]
A succulent? [That's a new suggestion.] I never tried growing one. They always seemed so...
[What's a good word for it.] Delicate.