Rainy Weather

Arthur popped his collar up and squinted critically at the dreary sky. 'It's about to rain.' he thought to himself 'I shouldn't be surprised, this is London after all. I just wish I had brought an umbrella. I'm still fairly far from my house...' Arthur pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and checked it. Nothing but a few empty ticket stubs and crumpled receipts. He sighed and closed it with a snap. 'and I'm too broke to hail a cab.'

He started walking faster, hoping fruitlessly that he would make it back to his flat before the skies opened up. As if hearing him and mocking his efforts, a great clap of thunder rang out. Arthur made it past a few more store fronts before it started pouring heavy rain out of nowhere. "Oh, bollocks!" he exclaimed under his breath as he ducked into the nearest shop, slamming the door against the rain.

"Bonjour! Welcome to my humble abode. What brings you here on zhis fine day?" a heavily accented voice rang out from the back of the shop Arthur had just burst into.

'Oh fantastic, a Frog.' Arthur turned from the door "I'm just resting here until the rain passes, I'll buy something if I have-" he stopped short. Flowers. Directly in his face. He was in a flower shop.

A man with curly blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail stepped around a large vase full of flowers that he was apparently arranging. He stopped and looked at Arthur for a long moment and then burst out laughing. "Oh mon dieu I apologize, it's just, you look like a drowned cat!" He backpedaled at Arthur's annoyed huff. "Non, non not like that. I meant you're so wet and angry looking!" he calmed down a bit. Arthur had his chin jutting out defiantly and his arms crossed. "I apologize, mon cher, that was rude of me. Come in!"

Arthur hesitated where he was for a moment, considering braving the rain again instead of dealing with this irritating Frenchman. Deciding that he in fact was not going back out in the rain, he walked stiffly farther into the shop. "I'm only here until the rain lets up."

The blonde laughed again, not unkindly. "Of course, you don't look particularly like the type to be hanging out in a flower shop." It was true. Arthur was wearing mostly black and was wearing a t-shirt that displayed a spiky-haired skull emblazoned with "The Exploited" over it. All in all, not the type of person you would expect to see in a flower shop. Arthur tugged awkwardly at the cuffs on his jacket, trying to will away the embarrassed blush on his face.

The man reached behind the counter and pulled out a red umbrella "Here, you can just borrow this umbrella. But-" he jerked it back as Arthur leaned forwards quickly to grab it. "Jou must tell me jour name." he finished with a small smile.

Arthur hesitated for a moment. "Arthur Kirkland, pleasure." he said with some reluctance, holding his hand out to shake.

"Francis Bonnefoy," he leaned down and took Arthur's hand, gently brushing his lips against it without ever breaking eye contact. "I believe the pleasure is all mine."

Arthur was stunned for a moment, his mouth hanging open until Francis placed the red umbrella in his hand. He snapped out of his trance "T-thank you. I'll just be going now." he stuttered, taking the umbrella and rushing out of the flower shop.

He paused when he was a ways away from the flower shop and around the corner, the rain pitter-pattering against the red umbrella. "What the bloody hell was wrong with me." Arthur said out loud, bonking his forehead lightly with the handle of the umbrella. After a moment of response but no one from the rain on the red umbrella, Arthur resigned himself to his fate of seeming like an idiot and continued the walk back to his apartment.

The next morning Arthur had managed to somewhat forget about his blunder in the flower shop as he unwrapped some leftover scones from the day before's breakfast to eat. He bit into one and held it between his teeth as he shuffled papers and filed sheet music, generally tidying up his messy apartment. He reached for a box of guitar strings resting on the edge of the table and overshot, knocking something over with a clatter. Swearing colourfully around his breakfast, he bent over to pick it up. Arthur picked it up, his swearing intensifying as water droplets splattered everywhere. It was the red umbrella he had borrowed from the Frenchman at the flower shop. 'Ah yes, what was his name again? Francis, wasn't it?' he stared at the umbrella, then outside to the semi-blue sky. 'Ah well, it's a fairly nice day out today I might as well return it while I can.' Arthur grabbed his messenger bag and left the apartment with the red umbrella, headed back towards the flower shop.