Pigment (Millard Nullings X Reader)

Roses

Listening to Human by Dodie while writing this. Have I ever told you guys about how much I fricking love her and her music? Because I could write a sonnet for her; I am platonically in love.

Both Millard and I were hiding behind a rose bush as we watched Cairnholm's only gardener water his plants. I was currently invisible for this, and held a watch in my hand, so Millard could take the time of things.

I watched him scribble down everything he could, and I heard him tap on the watch with his pencil from time to time. Sometimes I would watch the notes be written, and other times I'd just watch the gardener, Hank Melhof. He was a sweet, older man with white hair and blue eyes. It took him long periods of time to go from plant to plant because of the heavy watering can in his hand and his old age, but it was still quite interesting to watch him. I could imagine this being a documentary that teachers would show you in school when they didn't want to teach while they were getting over a hangover. In fact, I could imagine the title being A Day In Cairnholm, Wales with Screenplay by Millard Nullings and (Y/N) (L/N).

I wondered if Melhof's slowness made writing notes easier for Millard, or harder. It made me slightly glad to be there, too, since Millard no longer had to grab his watch from the ground, everytime he needed it. Our taking notes was a long, slow process, but there would be times when my companion would tell me that it goes by much faster, knowing he wasn't doing them alone. So really, I mostly was there for emotional support.

The more time I spent with Millard, the more quirks of his that I noticed. Like the fact that he was cinstantly drumming thr end of his pen on his leg when nothing would happen. And he would sigh quietly to himself when someone would do something dumb. But for now, everything was quiet, and I listened to the old man hum happily to himself.

"Good afternoon, Mister Melhof," A familiar voice said, as a red-headed girl walked over to Hank.

Millard stiffled a laugh, as Sophie Smith came into the picture. He wrote it down accordingly, saying '(Y/N)'s best friend and favorite person, Sophie Smith, greets Hank at 5:57 pm. They talk about a flower arrangement for Marie Smith's birthday on September 5, of 1940.'

I nudged Millard, and focused back on the scene. Despite Millard and I taking notes for two weeks now, we never finished doing the Smith's. It was like an inside joke between us now, whenever we would see a Smith walking down the street, or being mentioned by another person.

We finished our session that day at 6:11 in the afternoon, when Hank left to go get groceries. I got out of my hiding place, became visible again, and stretched out my legs. Sitting on the ground for hours upon end definitely wasn't the best part of the job. My knees were covered in dirt and grass stains, and I wished I didn't wear my favorite pair of khakis today. They'd get fixed when the loop reseted, though, so that'll be nice.

"Do your legs want to die, too?" I asked Millard.

"I stood for most of the session, remember?" He answered back.

Oh, yeah, I forgot we were able to do that. I still wasn't used to the whole Being Invisible Means No One Can See You thing. All I would of had to do, was hide the watch from plain view. And, from what I could tell, Hank Melhof couldn't see well anyways. Darn.

The rose bush in front of us started rustling, and a rose popped out of it. What would Millard want with a rose? The red, thorny flower began floating over to me, and I smiled. I mean, I was an absolute mess today, covered in dirt, with my hair going every direction imaginable but okay.

Wait, this was how Fiona looks on a daily basis!

"A rose for my wonderful assistant," Millard said in a posh voice.