The shop was beautiful. The fresh lick of sage green paint across the support beams still had that satisfying chemical smell, and come afternoon, the sunlight bathed the shop. It was truly your pride and joy, a source of purpose in your life.

You knew it was in a good part of town but you still found your jaw hanging slightly when the sweet little bell above the door jingled its little melodic 'ding' for... Sebastian Vettel?

He seemed dressed up; a black button-up shirt albeit half unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled up- and sleek ironed black dress-pants. Even his shoes reflected the tile ceiling. He planted his hands down on the till counter, he seemed to be on a mission as his eyes flickered over the various flowers behind you.

"White lilies or red roses?" he asked. It seemed wholly light-hearted, but he didn't clarify.