"𝐘𝗼𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝗼𝗺𝐞?"
"Some what?"
"Some dandelion honey with your tea."
Bruno Bucciarati is a humble man in a humble flower shop; tending to all types of blooms ranging in all types of colors.
What he has come to expect are people of all...
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Humming fills the room alongside a small radio situated atop a wooden stool, the tune paired with a woman singing something about her previous heartbreaks.
There's a man atop another stool, legs crossed with his foot gently kicking to the woman's soft voice. His hums are deep whilst he sways his head to the dull jazz, blue eyes looking down at the mini bouquet in his arms.
It's luscious with the tulips and sunflowers; the greenery filled of lemon leafs and a couple strands of leather leaf, some mini carnations filling in some empty space.
The ensemble was a beautiful result, and the man smiled at its dazzling appearance.
He let out a soft 'humph' before hopping off the stool in favor of plopping the bouquet gently against where he had sat, the man quickly scampering off to snatch a clear bouquet sleeve.
His name is Bruno Bucciarati, a man from a small town, currently wrapping a spring bouquet in this compact but comfortable shop.
The windows let a golden sunshine shimmer through and allow himself to bathe in its light, skin peeking out through his shirt collar and wrists when the sleeves are rolled up.
The bouquet is wrapped up in the plastic sleeve, the slight crunching of the plastic before it rests once again.
His hand reaches into the apron pocket on his left, plucking out an appropriate sized ribbon roll.
The white canvas apron is tightened around his hips, the man reaching for his craft scissors.
The end of a pale yellow ribbon is between his teeth whilst the roll is held in his hands, his eyes guiding where he'd snip enough to make a tight bow around the bouquet.
He smiles in victory when the cut is clean and disposes of his scissors into one of the apron pockets once again, before tying around the bouquet once.
Bruno gives a tight knot, before smiling and giving the bouquet a four loop bow.
He wipes the nonexistent sweat off his forehead, swiping the black bangs along with the movement. The gold clips keep the rest of his hair from fluttering amongst his face as he gives a small chuckle.
It's a pretty bouquet.
Small, compact, but it is personality.
Bruno plops the request into a vase, and continues to hum to the music vrumming through the shop.
He's done with the mandatory things, and he peeks up at the old clock beside the glass door. It ticks onto two pm, Bruno remembering his client speaking on the phone about picking up the bouquet at four.
Bruno smiles at the convenience, still humming to the music. No longer featuring the woman and her saddening romance songs, but a man cheerily singing about his life without worries.
"Tea.." Bruno says underneath his breath, blinking towards the copper kettle in the corner of the room. It's sat atop of an electric stove, one he had bought on a whim, almost like it's calling to him. "What tea will we have today?"
He's got some free time, so some peach oolong will do.
