Chapter 11: Jeffrey and the Language of Flowers

I fear I have been neglecting you, dear reader, and I must remind you that I do not wish to interfere with the story line by interrupting it with my personal ramblings. But, once again, it has come to my attention that I need to explain a few facts before the story continues. Sharvoras' suggestion that I court my employer was an alarming one, for several reasons. Most importantly is the fact that Mckale is my employer, and I am his/her employee. Such relationships are unconventional and not often looked upon with a kind eye. Secondly, there is the matter of Miss/Mister McKale's gender. I will admit that I am much like my employer in that I do not tend to differentiate between male and females when looking for a prospective partner of the romantic sort, but I do like to have knowledge of what said gender is. And that is only my side of the conflict. Miss/Mister McKale is terribly adamant about keeping his/her gender from me. Unlike many valets, I have never been proffered to help him/her dress (except in the case of corsets, as you have already read, and Miss/Mister McKale wears an abnormally thick silhouette during such exchanges). Nor have I ever been required to hold up a towel whilst my employer exits the bathtub. Any activity that required my employer being in the nude is not one where I am permitted to venture. I was also under the belief that Shar had not taken into mind the fact that my employer was not particularly happy with me, and there was no possible way for me to contend with the likes of someone he/she felt so strongly about, at the current time. There was, lastly, another matter that prevented me from carrying out Sharvoras' plan. I had already attempted to court my employer. Against employer-employee regulations. Despite my lack of knowledge concerning his/her gender. I do not wish to go into detail about the ordeal, but suffice to say my overtures were not accepted. I was forgiven for my actions and promised that I would not be fired because of my personal feelings. I have, since then, purged all thoughts of a relationship with Miss/Mister McKale from my mind, and deigned to keep it so. Sharvoras' would simply have to come up with a new plan. I regret to announce, dear reader, that he did not. .:.:.::.:.:. "I don't understand why I must do this. Surely we could find someone more suitable,” Jeffrey protested as he was shoveled along the bright streets of Star City. Both Shar and Cyilume were pattering at his side, pressed to his withers to keep him from turning around and running back to the apartment,” I am too old for my employer. I will not provoke any interest..." "Yeah,"said Shar, narrowing her glowing green eyes at Shar,"Probably won't work anyway. Right, Shar?" Shar said nothing. "And what, may I ask, if it is no burden upon either of you, am I going to do once Miss slash Mister McKale is free of Bress, Mr.Winquist, and her watch? Am I to inform him...her, of you're plan, and break off all engagements? I fear I'd be well out of a job if I did that, Mr. Tah." Shar continued to say nothing, but the corners of his lips twitched upward slightly in his silence. "I believe you are much too conniving for your own good, Mr. Tah." Shar shrugged minutely, and urged Jeffrey into a flower shop. "Yeah, that's right Shar. I don't think Jeffrey wants to spend the rest of his life dating the likes of McKale." "Cyilume!" "She's horrible! I don't know how you stand her!" "She...he...is very pleasant to be around when not faced with...uninvited guests." "Well that's not our fault, is it?" "It's not you she's punishing." The florist approached the trio with a cheery smile and clapped her hands together joyfully,” Welcome to Madame Earhart's Flower Shop, how may I help you?" Her voice was shrill and girlish. Cyilume swatted her own ears at the noise. "We'd like a bouquet consisting of an arrangement of Tuberose, Scabiose, Red Tulips, and Mixed Zinna,"Shar paused, stroking his thoughtfully,” And an aloe as well, please." He reached into Jeffrey's jacket pocket to retrieve a few coins. "Oh, excellent choice! Beautiful flowers! But won't the tulips clash?" "Doesn't matter,” he handed the coins to the woman. She nodded, and scurried to the back of the store to retrieve the flowers. "When did you take an interest in flowers?" Cyilume regarded him quizzically, taken aback. Shar grinned. The florist returned shortly with the bouquet and potted aloe, handing it over to Shar who immediately passed the flowers to Jeffrey. He wrapped his arms around the aloe, and turned toward the door. Jeffrey and Cyilume followed silently. Mid-way back to the apartment complex, Jeffrey turned to Shar, brow furrowed. "I have no qualms against flowers nor using them in courtship but why, may I ask, this particular variety?" "I noted McKale has immersed herself in Victorian culture, and I deduced that they would appreciate being courted using Victorian rituals,” he waved a hand vaguely at his and Jeffrey's plants,” The Language of Flowers. I took the liberty of researching the custom while you and Cyilume were sleeping." Jeffrey's brow shot to his hairline,” I see." "The language of flowers?"Cyilume wrinkled her lip,” Sounds like a load of silliness, to me. What's the aloe for? Ho-" she coughed, and quickly bit back the word. "Grief,” said Shar. Jeffrey sucked in a breath and lowered his gaze to the plant,” Indeed, Shar, indeed." .:.:.::.:.:. Jeffrey was not often one to pace, or otherwise show signs of discomfort, but his resolve had been decidedly weakened of late, and he'd been finding himself fidgeting, picking at things, and generally being nervous ever since his decision to bond a dragon. He did not regret it, of course, although he did wish he'd brought the subject up with McKale before the bonding ceremony had commenced. There was nothing to be done about it now though. But right now, Jeffrey was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. He stopped when he reached the corner of one hall, turned slowly, and marched back to apartment 4D, flowers swinging at his side. He stood in front of the door, gnawing the inside of his cheek, turned sharply, and began to stroll back toward the corner. Back and forth, back and forth. ~It's fine, Jeffrey. Everything will be fine.~ No, thought Jeffrey, no it would not be fine. McKale would not be impressed by this gesture. He moved back toward the door, straightened his back and smooth down his jacket, and knocked on the door. No one answered. There was not so much the quiet stirring of motion behind the wall. ~Oh no, Jeffrey~ Shar's mind-voice quivered, drenched in regret,~Oh Jeffrey, I'm so sorry~ Jeffrey opened his mouth to inquire as to what Shar was apologizing for, when, not two rooms down, a door was flung open, and out came McKale, ruffled and wearing nothing but a lady's silhouette and her usual robe. Bress trailed out after her, clutching her hand desperately and tugging her gently back toward him. "Won't you stay, just a little longer?" "No, no, you silly boy,"McKale giggled (giggled!),"I have to get dressed and check on Jeffrey, I told you, poor chap is lost without me. It's about time I forgave- Oh!" McKale ceased wriggling about the confines of Bress' arms and snapped her head toward the end of the hall, where one well-dressed and flower-bearing man stood, mouth slightly agape,” What ho, Jeffrey! Who're the flowers for, old chap?" Jeffrey snapped his mouth shut and lifted the bouquet,” These, Miss?" McKale nodded, once aging attempting to squirm out of Bress' embrace. He tightened his arms around her and planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth. She giggled and slid to her knees, scrambling away before he could snatch her up again. He raced after her, and she scurry down the hall toward Jeffrey, laughing madly. She grabbed hold of Jeffrey's arm and swung behind him, using him like a shield. "Yes Jeffrey!" she breathed between giggles,” Those flowers, there in your hand. I don't bally well see any others around, what?" It became apparent to Jeffrey that he could make one of two choices in that moment. He could tell McKale the flowers were for someone else, and he'd been sent to deliver them by the kindly old lady (or gentleman) living in the apartment next door to his. If so, he'd never have to attempt courting her again, and Shar would simply have to leave him alone. He would, too, after making this mistake. Sure, McKale would still be given the chance to obtain Yaidom through Bress, but that did not mean Jeffrey wouldn't have a myriad of second chances to get her out of Winquist's clutches. His second choice was to give her the flowers, right here in front of Bress, and continue with the plan. This meant he’d have to court McKale and risk losing his job. But she would be free from Winquist and she'd have to relinquish the watch to him. McKale let go of Jeffrey's arm and raced down the hall, Bress hot on her heels. He tackled her, wrapping his arms around her waist and sending them both to the floor. She let out a shriek, followed by laughter, and once again began to wiggle her way away from him. It was sickening. "They're for-" McKale let out a gale of laughter. She wasn't listening. Jeffrey's mouth drew into a thin line. His grip tightened around the flowers and be bent over, placing the bouquet gentle on the floor. He stood, turned, and left, leaving them in the middle of the hall. McKale could draw her own conclusions. .:.:.::.:.:. McKale finally managed to extract herself from Bress, with a promise to see him again later that night. She shooed him back into his apartment and swiveled about to return to hers. She paused beside Bress' door, staring down at the carpet. Jeffrey's flowers lay there, neatly trimmed and of muted, Jeffrey-approved colors...except the tulips. They clashed horribly with the rest of it, and McKale couldn't help but frown quizzically at that. Jeffrey would never have picked out a bouquet that clashed. She strode to the middle of the hall and picked them up off the floor. She couldn't remember whether or not Jeffrey had told her who they were for. Perhaps he forgot himself, hence why the poor fellows were left abandoned in the hall way. Well, didn't matter anymore, did it? Now they were her flowers. She grinned at the thought. Running her hand over the petals she slunk back into her apartment, setting them aside on an end table. Immediately, she began to dig through her bags. "Where is it..."she muttered, peeking between the folds of her clothing.”Ahah!" she flung herself backward, clutching a thick wad of paper in her hand. She flipped through the crude booklet, tongue peeking out between her lips. "Let's see...Tuberose," flipflipflipflip,"...dangerous love." She glanced up at the bouquet, squinting her eyes at the buds,"Scabiose." flipflip "Unfortunate love," she pressed her knuckles to her lips,"Oh my, poor bloke must have gotten himself mixed up in something right rummy. What next? Zinna..." lots of flipping of pages ensued,” Thinking of an absent friend. Absent friend? Who's...oh. Oh,"McKale narrowed her eyes at the flowers. "Red tulips,” she hissed through clenched draw,” Believe me. Declaration of love,” she wrinkled her nose and stood,” Well then, Jeffrey, old chum, if that's the way you want to play, then right-ho, I say." .:.:.::.:.:. The next morning Jeffrey found a bouquet of withered roses and, what Shar informed him after a little research, an achillea millefolia, outside the apartment door. Rejected love. War.