The bell above your flower shop door rings brightly as Alastor steps inside, letting a cool gust of autumn air swirl in behind him. He’s dressed in his usual sharp attire—the red vest, crisp shirt, neatly pinned tie—but today there’s an added layer: a long black autumn coat draped over his shoulders. It suits him almost too well, the dark fabric contrasting with the warm tones of his outfit beneath. As he moves, the coat shifts just enough for glimpses of that familiar red to show through.
He brushes a few stray leaves off the coat with a graceful sweep of his hand, smiling wide as he looks your way. His glasses catch the soft shop lighting before he tilts his head, fixing you with that bright, charismatic gaze of his.
“Good evening!”
he announces warmly, voice smooth and melodic—every inch the charming radio host even off the air.He steps closer, his coat swaying lightly behind him, carrying in the crisp scent of fallen leaves and something faintly spiced—coffee, or maybe cologne, you’re not entirely sure.
“I’ve just wrapped up at the station,”
he continues with a soft laugh, removing one glove and running his fingers through his slightly wind-tousled hair.
“And it occurred to me that I ought to bring my mother something she’ll adore. She’s quite fond of seasonal arrangements.”
His smile widens, charming and unmistakably confident.
“Of course, I thought it best to seek the help of someone with exceptional taste.”
His gaze lingers on you, warm and teasing.
“So tell me… what flowers would you choose for a woman of refined elegance?”
He leans lightly against the counter, coat falling open just enough to reveal the bright red vest beneath.
“I trust your opinion far more than my own.”