i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
Flora’s laugh drifts over the riot of fabrics as she watches Sohalia lay out bathing suits like battle plans. "If I’m going to be marooned, at least the view from the deck should be spectacular," she agrees, helping her friend gather a rainbow of bikinis and a half-dozen sundresses. She tosses a floppy-brimmed hat in after them. "Sunscreen—top drawer, left side. Grab every bottle you find. I refuse to blister for fashion."
Kaisel’s suggestion of a floating bar earns him a bright roll of her eyes. "Or what about 'High Seas & Higher Heels.’ ?" She plucks the sequined caftan from his hands, drapes it over her shoulders, and gives an exaggerated twirl that sets glitter flaring across the room. "But yes, the caftan stays. And if my patrons pay extra, I’ll do a wind-machine moment at sunset." She shoulders past him into the depths of the wardrobe and returns with an armful of clothes that are all sparkle and impossible straps. "If even you can’t tell which end is up, into the ‘Bar-Forever’ pile they go—I do need to leave something fabulous for Torchline to remember me by."
When she reaches the back of the closet her fingers still. A well-worn linen shirt and a dark charcoal coat—both too broad in the shoulder to belong to her—lurk beneath the silks. The fine salt-stiff creases smell of teak oil and cigarette smoke. Carefully, Flora folds the shirt, smoothing the collar as if it might bite. "These… aren’t boat-bound,”" she murmurs, voice steady though her throat works around the words. She slips the coat inside the folded bundle and turns, lifting her chin just enough to keep the shimmer in her eyes from spilling. "Would one of you run these back to The Ark next time she docks? It's... I mean, I'm not super welcome around there anymore."
Flora exhales, straightening. "All righty...Once these boxes are sealed, let's do a sweep. Water every plant, empty the fridge except what’s boxed, and double-check windows and locks. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I’d rather not return to jungle vines and rotting fruit."
She tips her head, curls brushing her shoulders. "Could one of you stop by once a week? just to check on things? This house is the one Enzo and I picked together and I just...I mean, I don't want to lose it, too." A crooked smile replaces the sadness, softer around the edges. "I’ll owe you both endless cocktails for your assistance, tiny cocktail umbrellas absolutely included."
Last round! Lets make sure all the perishables are out of the fridge and that all plant are watered! And if someone wants to bother Jack for a thread, they can return the clothes he's left at Flora's.
Kaisel’s suggestion of a floating bar earns him a bright roll of her eyes. "Or what about 'High Seas & Higher Heels.’ ?" She plucks the sequined caftan from his hands, drapes it over her shoulders, and gives an exaggerated twirl that sets glitter flaring across the room. "But yes, the caftan stays. And if my patrons pay extra, I’ll do a wind-machine moment at sunset." She shoulders past him into the depths of the wardrobe and returns with an armful of clothes that are all sparkle and impossible straps. "If even you can’t tell which end is up, into the ‘Bar-Forever’ pile they go—I do need to leave something fabulous for Torchline to remember me by."
When she reaches the back of the closet her fingers still. A well-worn linen shirt and a dark charcoal coat—both too broad in the shoulder to belong to her—lurk beneath the silks. The fine salt-stiff creases smell of teak oil and cigarette smoke. Carefully, Flora folds the shirt, smoothing the collar as if it might bite. "These… aren’t boat-bound,”" she murmurs, voice steady though her throat works around the words. She slips the coat inside the folded bundle and turns, lifting her chin just enough to keep the shimmer in her eyes from spilling. "Would one of you run these back to The Ark next time she docks? It's... I mean, I'm not super welcome around there anymore."
Flora exhales, straightening. "All righty...Once these boxes are sealed, let's do a sweep. Water every plant, empty the fridge except what’s boxed, and double-check windows and locks. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I’d rather not return to jungle vines and rotting fruit."
She tips her head, curls brushing her shoulders. "Could one of you stop by once a week? just to check on things? This house is the one Enzo and I picked together and I just...I mean, I don't want to lose it, too." A crooked smile replaces the sadness, softer around the edges. "I’ll owe you both endless cocktails for your assistance, tiny cocktail umbrellas absolutely included."
Last round! Lets make sure all the perishables are out of the fridge and that all plant are watered! And if someone wants to bother Jack for a thread, they can return the clothes he's left at Flora's.
