sloane rhiannon was, by far, the favorite attendant at botanical bottega.

that was evident due to her face being plastered all over the employee of the month board with a plants vs. zombies sticker (what the hell, john). yet, her only competition was her saturnine cashier counterpart, emilio gray–and his resting bitch face was bound to kill someone.

the flower shop had a penchant for hiring people who looked quite out of place. in the words of their floral artist, safiya, sloane was a snake plant, and emilio was a trodden on weed–yet neither of them seemed ready to quit.

who didn't like her? she sent people off with a new bouquet and a smile like nothing. she was studying for a degree in human resource management, so people were sort of her forte. therein was one of your blaring problems.

see, you really liked sloane, however that came with a fucking unreasonable number of roadblocks. one, she'd just emerged from a long term relationship a few months prior. two, she scared you shitless with that languid attitude of hers. and three, it felt like everyone fancied her.

"oh, i have such a crush on her."

"you're into sloane? bloody hell, same."

and just like that, you knew you were going to get emotionally annihilated on a molecular level.

"for me? oh, you're too kind, sweetheart." the corners of sloane's almond, cornflower blue eyes crinkled, the modest potted succulent you had gifted her cradled between her lissome hands as she ran a thumb over the ashy, painted terracotta.

yes you were aware that you were purchasing a plant for a person who worked with them all day. you embraced your innate stupidity, obviously. emilio flipped you off from across the store.

"most people would have roses as a go-to." she chuckled, setting down your plant child and hanging her apron, russet tresses sliding off her shoulders to conceal the back of the ambercrombie cardigan over her black bustier. "you know, if you want to get a message across, you don't need to communicate through ethically sourced plants."