you can call me honey if you want
Flora’s brows lift slightly when Colt pushes back, the queen pausing mid-grape as the rancher insists Vesper isn’t quite the same as his father. For a moment she only watches her, the small hesitation in Colt’s voice and the way she reaches for another drink not exactly subtle. Flora doesn’t argue, doesn’t press the point, though something in her gaze softens as if she’s recognizing the shape of the thing underneath it. She gives a quiet little shake of her head instead, a sad sort of understanding settling into her expression. "Don’t worry," she says gently, her tone lighter than the look in her eyes. "I've definitely already learned that lesson." It isn’t dismissive, and it isn’t triumphant either. If anything, it carries the weight of someone who spent far too long defending a man she probably shouldn’t have, and who felt compelled to do so every now and again, even still.
She pops another grape into her mouth, crunching it thoughtfully before huffing a small laugh under her breath at Colt’s remark about seeing her topless. "Well," she says, flicking a glance toward the rancher with an amused tilt of her head, "I was wearing pasties at least, but thank you."
Her gaze drifts toward Melita as the Honeybee circles back to the aftermath with Jack, and Flora exhales through her nose, leaning back slightly on one hand while the illusion of tide continues its patient rhythm behind her. "I actually asked him to meet me," she explains, voice breezy in the way that usually means the story underneath it isn’t. "My plan was to tell him to knock it off or he could consider himself actually banned from Torchline." She lifts her glass slightly as if toasting the intention, unable to elaborate on the much more interesting parts of that particular conversation. "But before I even got to that part, he was like...more petty and full of himself than I think I've ever seen him." The queen reaches for the bottle again, pouring herself another mimosa that leans far more toward champagne than citrus, the bubbles snapping quietly in the glass.
"And honestly?" she continues, glancing between them. "The worst part is that Caly and I used to get along really well. That’s why I gave her the bar in the first place." She takes a sip, bitterness edging the words despite the casual tone. "But now she acts like I stole her soulmate and forced her whole family to leave the island, when it was one date and Jack’s idea to move to King's End in the first place." Her nose wrinkles faintly, another swallow of champagne chasing the irritation away before it can settle too deeply.
The conversation shifts again when Sohalia finally answers Colt and Melita’s questions, and Flora falls quiet immediately, the humour slipping out of her expression as she turns toward her friend. The admission lands softly but heavily all the same. Without saying anything, Flora reaches out and rubs a hand slowly across Sohalia’s back, the gesture warm and grounding. With her other hand she quietly swipes Soh’s flute, refilling it with fresh champagne before setting it back within reach.
She pops another grape into her mouth, crunching it thoughtfully before huffing a small laugh under her breath at Colt’s remark about seeing her topless. "Well," she says, flicking a glance toward the rancher with an amused tilt of her head, "I was wearing pasties at least, but thank you."
Her gaze drifts toward Melita as the Honeybee circles back to the aftermath with Jack, and Flora exhales through her nose, leaning back slightly on one hand while the illusion of tide continues its patient rhythm behind her. "I actually asked him to meet me," she explains, voice breezy in the way that usually means the story underneath it isn’t. "My plan was to tell him to knock it off or he could consider himself actually banned from Torchline." She lifts her glass slightly as if toasting the intention, unable to elaborate on the much more interesting parts of that particular conversation. "But before I even got to that part, he was like...more petty and full of himself than I think I've ever seen him." The queen reaches for the bottle again, pouring herself another mimosa that leans far more toward champagne than citrus, the bubbles snapping quietly in the glass.
"And honestly?" she continues, glancing between them. "The worst part is that Caly and I used to get along really well. That’s why I gave her the bar in the first place." She takes a sip, bitterness edging the words despite the casual tone. "But now she acts like I stole her soulmate and forced her whole family to leave the island, when it was one date and Jack’s idea to move to King's End in the first place." Her nose wrinkles faintly, another swallow of champagne chasing the irritation away before it can settle too deeply.
The conversation shifts again when Sohalia finally answers Colt and Melita’s questions, and Flora falls quiet immediately, the humour slipping out of her expression as she turns toward her friend. The admission lands softly but heavily all the same. Without saying anything, Flora reaches out and rubs a hand slowly across Sohalia’s back, the gesture warm and grounding. With her other hand she quietly swipes Soh’s flute, refilling it with fresh champagne before setting it back within reach.
