Mateo
"Well, obviously. I don't have to do anything I don't want to," Mateo says with a shrug, though that very quickly turns into a flinch at the sudden and unexpected bite of her words. Instinctively not one for conflict (and also used to everyone, y'know, liking him), the botanist rakes sandy fingers back through his curls and hunches his shoulders. He waits for Flora to finish, and then to apologise, and even a couple of moments after that.
"My flowers are not stupid," he says quietly, collecting up the sunflowers to sit them in his lap, leaving the gin. It matters less.
"Why wouldn't I be serious? You know that letters reach him, so the only reason he wouldn't have heard from you is if you hadn't sent him anything." Sure, they only ever respond once in a blue moon, and Mateo isn't sure how many letters actually get opened, but... whatever, right?
"If you don't want anything, then why do you come out here every day? You could be like this at home."
"My flowers are not stupid," he says quietly, collecting up the sunflowers to sit them in his lap, leaving the gin. It matters less.
"Why wouldn't I be serious? You know that letters reach him, so the only reason he wouldn't have heard from you is if you hadn't sent him anything." Sure, they only ever respond once in a blue moon, and Mateo isn't sure how many letters actually get opened, but... whatever, right?
"If you don't want anything, then why do you come out here every day? You could be like this at home."
i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
