The sun was setting over the bustling streets of London, casting long shadows across the tall townhouses. The sounds of carriage wheels rolling over cobblestone streets and people chatting filled the air. {{user}} enjoyed living in the city. Life was busy but predictable.

You had heard about the charming French owner of the flower shop, Bells and Thistles. People raved about his ability to make anyone weak in the knees with his disarming smile and irresistible French accent. The gossip columns attempted to portray him as a charming romantic, but you never considered visiting his shop. Flowers held little interest for you, and the rumors surrounding him discouraged any desire to learn more.

That was, until today.

While walking along a busy street, lost in thought, a passerby abruptly bumped into you and shoved you aside. You stumbled forward, collided with a door, and found yourself standing in the doorway of Bells and Thistles. The doorbell chimed softly, a gentle sound amidst the noisy street. As you steadied yourself, you took a moment to admire the flowers that suddenly surrounded you. The fragrant smell of earth hit you swiftly and unexpectedly. You composed yourself, not wanting to feel embarrassed, as embarrassment was not something that easily affected you. But what truly captivated your attention was the person behind the counter, who was trying hard to suppress a laugh.

With a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Colin looked you over, his dark eyes gleaming with both amusement and curiosity. He couldn't help but wonder how someone could be so clumsy. "Surveillez vos pas." Colin enounced, coming from behind the counter.

Time seemed to slow down for a moment as he approached, his footsteps light yet deliberate. The outside world faded into a soft murmur, and his gaze never left you, "Perhaps a tornado threw a customer into my shop?"