Darien once again found himself in front of the flower shop, as he had twice before in the last week, since his first chance meeting with Delphine. Grigori accompanied him now instead of staying in the car, but always waited outside, flanking the door.
The bodyguard had insisted on that, for Darien's protection. This street wasn't in their part of the city, and by now his visits had to have become common knowledge. While Darien could have ordered him off, he knew not to second-guess the people who kept him safe.
Part of him wondered what kept him coming back, but as the door opened before him and the myriad floral scents and colors reached his nose and eyes, he was reminded. Be now, he was well enough used to it that it no longer overwhelmed his senses.
He was dressed more casually than his previous visits, owing the warm weather, fitted suit discarded in favor of only a black-and-red checkered vest over a white exercise shirt that proudly displayed his toned, tanned biceps. Of course, he was still ornamented, this time with a silver pocket watch chain trailing from his breast pocket and an inscribed silver bracelet flush to the skin halfway up his right arm.
His hair was a loose black mane rather than a careful braid, and he was actually smiling for once as he turned to regard Delphine, who was hard at work rearranging the displays. Sadly, her mood did not seem nearly as bright, as she arranged the flowers with an uncustomary urgency, lips pursed, clearly agitated.
"Something wrong?" He asked casually when she turned to face him. By now there was little need for pleasantries. She knew him by his first name, and a little of his life from their short conversations.
That he owned a few bars and an import-export business on the wharf, and enjoyed books, classic movies, and sailing. All truths, if not the whole truth.
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