How Green Becomes Wood

Dark turned to the twelve-year old, and took a quick step over to intervene. Reaching out, he took the pot with one hand and then in his deep, rumbling voice, said only one word, "Careful." before setting the pot back down, a little further out of reach.
 
The twelve-year-old stared at Dark in horror and turned toward the other women. "Granny!"

"Why would you have such a dangerous plant where children can reach it?" the older woman demanded, her nose wrinkling indignantly as she reached out toward the child as it ran toward her.

"Children do not normally patronize flower shops," Tristan said mildly. "As I was saying, if you are interested in something a little more non-traditional, I do have some bouquets that can be made of primarily berries, leaves, and non-flower items. Flowers can be added, but with the emphasis on non-flower elements, it is more environmentally friendly as it is easier to get them in season."

"Oh, like eucalyptus? That could smell so good and last for so much longer!" said the middle woman, looking interested.

"No, thank you, I think we will go elsewhere for the wedding bouquet, thank you," the matriarch said stiffly.

The youngest looked annoyed. "That does sound like it could be cool looking, and it doesn't have to be outrageous, Mom! It could still be elegant, right?" she looked to her middle sister and Tristan for approval.

"Indeed," Tristan started to say, but the eldest interrupted him.

"How could a bunch of twigs possibly look good," she sniffed, sounding like her mother. "Come on, I'm sure there are much more friendly and accommodating florists to get you what you want."
 
"I like roses," Dark said, folding his arms over his chest coolly, "I use them for mourning. I think they are the perfect flower for goodbye." He paused, and after a moment, committed to a lie, "That is what they mean, in my culture."
 
Everyone in the shop turned to stare at Dark. Tristan's lips twitched as if he wanted to smile, but he quickly composed his face before anyone noticed.

The youngest recovered first and turned to her mother. "See, Mom! Roses at a wedding would be so bad! We need something other than roses. Right?"

"We shall consider it," her mother said cooly, "but considering your father and I are paying for this wedding, I think our opinions should count for something. So! Let's try the next shop." She was already walking toward the door. "If you really can't find anything you like, I am sure they can do sticks just as well as here."

The eldest gathered up her children as the youngest followed her mother, still complaining about the flowers. The middle woman paused long enough to apologize to Tristan before hurrying her children after them.

"I hope you find what you are looking for. I'll be open all weekend," Tristan called after them with a neutral smile. That was the extent of his effort to retain their business.
 
When everyone stared at him, he only stared back until they turned away from him, at which point he pretended like he was considering buying something until they left. Tristan didn't seem to mind losing their buisness, but he didn't want to feel responsible for driving them off. After they left, and the door was shut, he held up the vase he still held and asked, "Where do you want this?"
 
"Right there would be good," Tristan said with a little sigh. "Thank you for rescuing it. Perhaps there is something to be said for not having things where children can reach."He rolled his chair forward and glanced out the front window. "I wish that poor girl luck. I suppose the people paying for the ceremony should have some say in the matter, but I don't know how much is appropriate." He shook his head and turned toward Dark. "Roses are goodbye? Interesting, considering I seem to recall there is a poem by one Al-Mutanabbi comparing the love of his life to a rose."
 
Dark set the vase down where he was told, "The older woman reminds me of my father-in-law. I suspect if he was not less powerful than his aunt, we would have had very little say in our wedding." He looked at the vase for some moments before turning it so the light hit it better, "In Iraq, they mean love and purity. And are our national flower, actually. But Daizi has used them for mortuary purposes, and I lied." His eyes flicked towards Tristan, "You know Al-Mutanabbi?"
 
Tristan chuckled at the fact that Dark had lied about the roses. He had suspected as much. He turned his chair and rolled around to a rack of flowers that had been upset by the children. A bit of water had spilled on the floor, so he went back to the cashier desk to grab some cleaning cloths. "I know a little bit. I stumbled across his poetry quite by accident one day, and randomly I will remember and try to find some of his poetry. It is difficult to find since I do not read Arabic."

Locking his wheels, he then tried to lean over to clean the floor without upsetting his chair. He could reach the floor with ease, but the act of trying to scrub the floor still tended to challenge him, much to his own frustration. Other chair users could manage cleaning the floor with ease, but for some reason, reaching down and rubbing, especially in a circle, made him feel off-balance.
 
"I have not read the English translations. It is beautiful in Arabic." Dark commented, but knew there was no way to really express it. There was a quality to Arabic poetry he didn't find in English. After watching Tristan for a few moments he asked, "Do you need help?"
 
"I can imagine it would be superior in its original language," Tristan agreed. He pushed himself upright and nodded to Dark reluctantly. "I would not want to put you out, but, yes, if you do not mind. Otherwise, I will end up with tracks all over the store."
 
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"It is no problem, it would bother me if it was imperfect," Dark assured Tristan, taking one of the cloths and crouching all the way down to the floor to mop the spill out. Luckily, due to Ivy, he was used to folding himself up like this, "Did you know Baghdad hosts a flower festival? You would not think it, given the desert."
 
"I did know that! It would be amazing to go to such flower festivals as that, but I do not fly well," Tristan said wistfully, watching Dark clean. "Thank you for your help. I greatly appreciate it! And I am sorry, I have not asked why you are here. Business or pleasure or family?"
 
"Neither do I," Dark admitted, although he had different reasons. Planes simply were not built for someone his size. And now he had Ivy, and the twins, and there were other reasons why he could not go to Iraq. "I am here because my wife was worried. I promised her I would check, and then I would buy her flowers so I did not waste your time. I suppose it qualifies as all three."
 
"Oh!" Tristan said, truly surprised that Daizi had meant what she said about sending Dark to work with him. "That was most kind of her. I do not mind closing if necessary." He was about to go on, but the door jangled open, and a couple walked in. They were young, fresh faced, and clearly newly in love as they started walking around the shop, looking around in awe. Tristan wordlessly asked Dark for the cloths back so he could dispose of them.
 
"She is uniquely kind." Dark answered, standing, putting the cloths where told, and stood to the side to let Tristan work, watching the new customers carefully as they came in. It was a look he knew well on their faces, but he didn't stare, instead he also glanced around, wondering if there was something he should... be doing? Since he had been coerced into working here?
 
After a bit, Tristan caught Dark's attention. "Do you mind helping these two choose a favorite color of the fringed tulips while I fetch the flower sleeves? They seem to be having some issues." He rolled to the back to fetch them.

"I think we should get purple," said the woman.

"But that's my favorite color!" protested the man. "We should get red."

"But red is my favorite color!" the woman sighed in exasperation.
 
Dark nodded to Tristan, and came up to the couple, his hands clasped lightly behind his back, "Hello, may I help you?" Obviously, he had heard some of their dispute, but wasn't going to come in with suggestions until he knew a bit more.
 
The couple jumped and stared up at Dark. Their eyes went wide, and they instinctively edged closer together. After a beat longer than natural, the man swallowed and managed to smile. "I, um, we, that is, are looking for the perfect flower bouquet for a mother-in-law." The woman elbowed him, and he quickly amended, "A possible future mother-in-law!"
 
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