How Green Becomes Wood

Dark nodded, taking a long sip of tea, "I interviewed at that school. I do not know how it was then, but their football team is better than ours, now. Did they have a rivalry then?"
 
"I never understood the rivalries," He admitted, "it all seemed pointless to me. It still does, but I understand now it is intended to be fun. Back then, I sort of just wanted to tell everyone to shut up."
 
"They are entirely pointless and just to give the children something external to focus on. Most sport games are just war games for children, after all. A civilized way to get out our bloodlust," Tristan replied, his tone dry. He turned as the bell at the shop door rang. He excused himself and went to go take care of the customer. A few minutes later, he returned. "How has working at the shop been for you so far? Other than the feeling of being on display."
 
Not that his smile had ever been visible, but it faded as Tristan spoke, "I have had more than enough of bloodlust." When the bell rang, he would've gotten up, but Tristan moved first, so he turned his back to the door and drank his tea. When Tristan came back, he drew himself up from the inside and said, "I have enjoyed it. It does restrengthen my decision to become a stay-at-home father, but I do not regret offering to help."
 
"I really do appreciate your help. I do not think Alec and I could have dealt with this," he waved his hand to the boxes, "alone, and I know for a fact I could not have. I likely would have been forced to call Cooger, but I do not know if I would have been able to open the shop today with everything else happening."
 
"I may not be hired muscle, but I know where I am useful." He replied simply, "Cooger would not have minded coming, he may have been able to help with the rest better than you think. But he is talkative, so you would have had a different problem. He has never met a stranger."
 
"Of that, I am well aware," Tristan chuckled. "How did little Ivy take to you leaving after being home so much? I am not very familiar with children, but I do have this hazy knowledge that they get upset when people leave because they think they won't come back? Or something similar."
 
Dark was quiet for a few moments, but then admitted, "She took it hard. We have been dealing with fairly intense separation anxiety. Her pediatrician assures us it is normal and expected, and says we respond to it fairly well, because we keep our goodbyes brief and we do not turn back... During the day, Daizi and I practice leaving, but it is difficult."
 
"I'm sorry. That sounds incredibly painful," Tristan said sympathetically. "It must be torture. I am sure Daizi does not look forward to the day when she returns to the office."
 
"No... Well, by then she, Ivy, should be more beyond it. If she is not, I do not know what we will do. Handle it, I suppose, because we must." He rubbed his thumb along the side of his cup, "I was not sufficiently warned about how different it feels to be loved by someone so small. I thought it would feel like how bonded my dog is to me. But although it is a similar innocence, they do not measure in intensity."
 
Tristan gave a slight nod. "I cannot claim to understand fully, but I think I can imagine it. It must go well beyond any dream come true, and I imagine it must be very different from even when the boys came to be with you as they are not exactly small. Love is such a complex thing while being so incredibly simple."
 
"It is different. I love all three of them to the hilt, but it is different, because Alec and Xander are not thoroughly and completely dependent on me. Ivy is not different because she is biological, or because she is a girl, she is different because she is a baby. If I treated her the way I treat a teenager, I would be doing wrong by her." He chuckled subtly, "And we met under different circumstances."
 
"Only if it will not trouble you," Tristan said hastily. "I should likely put together a couple more arrangements. The premade ones seem to be selling rather well." He rolled toward the table in the back room, intending to make the flower arrangements and then bring up front. He'd wanted to ask Dark more details on exactly how the twins ended up in their lives, but work called. Maybe there would be another chance later?

A scruffy-looking fellow with darker skin and worn jacket pulled protectively about him stood studying the flowers warily as if he was either picking out a weapon or waiting to see if the flowers would attack first.
 
"I am here to work, am I not?" Dark asked, walking to the front door and greeting the man. He had noticed, since he first met Tristan, how his leg trembled, on occasion, he had seen it this morning intensely, he was aware of how busy the shop had been, and he knew it sometimes closed down with little warning. It didn't take a genius to put pieces together, and although Dark lacked advice for it, and wasn't going to inquire about something so personal, he would step in to help where help is welcome.

"Hello, Sir," He greeted the man, his hands clasped behind his back like they often were when he greeted customers, "Are you in need of assistance?"
 
The man turned abruptly, his eyes squinted in a glare. He found himself glaring at Dark's chest and had to look farther up than expected. His expression remained the same, squinty, distrustful look, likely hardened into place over time, and not even something as startling as Dark appearing in a quaint little flower shop would shake that expression.

"I'm here for some flowers," he said at last in a it of a growl. "Mah daughter, she's got this dance thing, right? And I wanted to bring her some flowers 'cause that's what you do at dances." He seemed to steel himself, waiting for Dark's disbelief of scoffing.
 
"She's into pink right now. Like, really into pink. I dunno if she's got a favorite flower yet." He paused a minute before adding, "She's only eight. Not sure how many flowers she even knows." He glanced around. "Maybe more than me," he mumbled under his breath.
 
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