The Carnation Conundrum

Vincent had never been one to sweat the small stuff.

All his life he'd been trained, raised, whatever you wanted to call it, to hyper-focus and get things done without stressing over things he couldn't control or things that ultimately didn't matter. Even as a child, he lived a very secluded and structured life. He supposed that was what happened when you grew up in an underground Cynic base, which to him felt normal but to every, other actually normal human was likely very strange.

All this to say, as Vincent stood in front of the flower stand looking down at a myriad of choices, he was suddenly feeling nervous in a way he had never expected.

The sunflowers were bright and beautiful, and he knew most people liked them. But the roses signified something more personal, romantic even, at least, that's what his cursory research online had said. Then there were the lilacs. Oh, the lilacs! They were extremely fragrant and Vincent found he loved the color of the little fragile petals on the stem, but this wasn't about him so he wasn't sure if his own bias was informing his decision or not here.

Needless to say, after about ten minutes of his hopeless staring, he was approached for help.

"Having trouble deciding?" A young woman asked at his elbow. She was short, had extremely long wavy hair, and had a sharpness to her eyes that Vincent was instantly wary of.

"Ah, yes," He laughed a little nervously, reaching up to rub at the shaved undersides of his head, "I'm trying to buy for someone, but I've never...boughten flowers before I'm afraid."

The young woman giggled, trying to hide what Vincent assumed would have been a pretty bright smile. He smiled lopsidedly, shrugging as she sussed out his issues right away.

"Who are they for? A friend? Family?" Lover went unspoken, but they both knew it hovered there in the air anyway.

"Boyfriend," He said shortly, still getting used to that word himself, "An apology." He probably didn't need to give that context, but it might be relevant, he didn't know. The woman nodded seriously, lifting a hand to settle her finger on her bottom lip as she looked over the options.

"Normally people buy roses for intimate relationships, it's quite standard. However, I think that doing something unique speaks more to a close connection than just defaulting to the norm," She breezed away from the roses in a flurry of skirts, moving over to where the lilacs, daisies, and carnations were sitting.

"Forgive me for staring, but I saw you looking at these. I think if you did some purple lilacs and white carnations, maybe a bit of baby's breath, it would be a beautiful spread," She started plucking flowers out of the barrels with practiced ease, and Vincent could do little to protest.

"I did like their scent," He admitted softly, watching the woman pluck the flowers she thought best and slowly arrange them into something wonderful, "You're quite good at that you know."

"Ah, comes with the territory. I've grown up around this sort of thing my whole life," She shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but Vincent was impressed.

"I appreciate the help. I'd likely have been stuck standing here for a few more hours at this rate," His laugh was a bit more natural now, and he watched with interest as the young woman arranged everything for him before calling over the stall keep to bundle it in a lovely mint green parchment.

"No problem at all, I could hardly let someone make a mistake when it came to flowers. It's not in my nature," She smiled brightly up at him, stepping away from the stall as his flowers were prepared, "I think that's all you need me for. In the future, go with your instincts. No mind what society might tell you about flowers."

"Of course, it's a lesson well learned," Vincent nodded with a smile.

"Good," The woman twirled to leave, heading away before turning back with a wink, "Hope he accepts your apology, Vincent!"

She was gone before he could react, and then the flowers were being stuffed into his arms and he was paying for them. A bit dazed, Vincent frowned as he lost the woman in the crowd of the farmer's market.

He surely didn't give her his name, did he?