i can't help it if i want to kiss you in the rain, so
Flora’s reaction arrives in a rush of bright, delighted shock that sweeps across her face before she can even pretend at composure. Her aqua eyes go wide, the surprise opening through her like a window catching warm wind. "Shut up," she blurts—soft, disbelieving, absolutely charmed—before catching herself and adding with a laugh, "No way!" Because of course it's Deimos' son. A little terror of curls and bright eyes and curiosity, except now big enough to hold conversations and pick out candy and apparently lecture her on chocolate volume. She pieces it together in a heartbeat, warmth spreading through her expression as she looks at him with new understanding, new fondness. "Crazy, I've only seen you as a baby."
When he points toward the display of cocoa bombs, Flora swivels to study them with the kind of serious contemplation usually reserved for political treaties. Then she looks back at him and nods sagely, dramatically. "You’re very wise," she declares before reaching out and scooping several flavours off the shelf with the enthusiasm of a pirate raiding a treasure chest. She drops them haphazardly into her basket which is growing heavier by the minute.
When he lifts the bag of caramel-dipped pretzels, Flora makes an appreciative little noise in her throat and shakes her head. "Never have," she admits, tilting her basket toward him in invitation. "But I trust your judgement, so." Her glove taps the rim of her basket to punctuate the approval.
As he reaches for the next mysterious treasure—a hand-painted egg perched low on a shelf where she'd never have seen it—Flora leans in, her brows nudging upward. "Oh," she murmurs, the syllable stretched in curious amusement as she studies the unexpected ornament. "Weird." But then she flashes him a grin. "Finders keepers!"
Flora says Erebos should take the egg!
When he points toward the display of cocoa bombs, Flora swivels to study them with the kind of serious contemplation usually reserved for political treaties. Then she looks back at him and nods sagely, dramatically. "You’re very wise," she declares before reaching out and scooping several flavours off the shelf with the enthusiasm of a pirate raiding a treasure chest. She drops them haphazardly into her basket which is growing heavier by the minute.
When he lifts the bag of caramel-dipped pretzels, Flora makes an appreciative little noise in her throat and shakes her head. "Never have," she admits, tilting her basket toward him in invitation. "But I trust your judgement, so." Her glove taps the rim of her basket to punctuate the approval.
As he reaches for the next mysterious treasure—a hand-painted egg perched low on a shelf where she'd never have seen it—Flora leans in, her brows nudging upward. "Oh," she murmurs, the syllable stretched in curious amusement as she studies the unexpected ornament. "Weird." But then she flashes him a grin. "Finders keepers!"
Flora says Erebos should take the egg!
