& if you never bleed you're never gonna grow
Flora beams at Astaroth 's reaction, practically preening as he acknowledges the effort she’d put into her outfit for the evening. She gives him a quick, affectionate squeeze before pulling back to watch him open his gift, her hands clasped behind her back, her weight shifting slightly onto her toes as if she can’t quite contain her anticipation. She knows it’s a little ridiculous, how much she wants him to like it, but their history is a tangled thing, and she’s not above putting too much weight on gestures like this; on getting it right as if that will somehow make up for the clumsiness of her actions in the past. But then Asta is tucking the ruby boutonniere into his waistcoat, its polished surface catching the flickering light in the Dusklight, and her lips curve into a smug, satisfied grin.
"It looks perfect," she says, reaching out to adjust it slightly before running her fingers down the lapel of his coat. "But then again, you look good in everything." She hums, before finally stepping back and allowing him to escape the attention.
Now that her mission has been accomplished, she pivots smoothly toward the bar, ordering herself a drink before her gaze flicks toward Jack, seated comfortably in one of the booths with his glass in hand. The invitation is unspoken, but she hardly needs one—drink in hand, she saunters over. slides into his lap with effortless ease, as if she belongs there (which she does), and drapes her arm around his shoulders. "You know," she murmurs, tilting her head as she takes a slow sip of her drink. "I think he's handling all this attention rather well." Raising her eyebrows a touch expectantly, Flora waits for the captain to give her the tea on how Asta is really feeling about it all.
"It looks perfect," she says, reaching out to adjust it slightly before running her fingers down the lapel of his coat. "But then again, you look good in everything." She hums, before finally stepping back and allowing him to escape the attention.
Now that her mission has been accomplished, she pivots smoothly toward the bar, ordering herself a drink before her gaze flicks toward Jack, seated comfortably in one of the booths with his glass in hand. The invitation is unspoken, but she hardly needs one—drink in hand, she saunters over. slides into his lap with effortless ease, as if she belongs there (which she does), and drapes her arm around his shoulders. "You know," she murmurs, tilting her head as she takes a slow sip of her drink. "I think he's handling all this attention rather well." Raising her eyebrows a touch expectantly, Flora waits for the captain to give her the tea on how Asta is really feeling about it all.
