SWEET AS SUGAR, BABY!

“ HELL OF A FLOWER SHOP YOU’VE GOT HERE! ”  her bark commands attention as she strides in, a toothy grin hooked to the corner of her mouth, hands stuffed in the pockets of a pair of ripped up black jeans. all around here are the blooming, vivid faces of flowers in colors she didn’t even know flowers could be all floating in a sea of green.

the lovely lady she addresses is thin, blond and dolled up; looks sugar-sweet.  

“ it’s like I’m on another planet. you never see all these colors out in the woods! where are all these pretty little guys hiding? be nice to see some of these to break up the green. ” in the humidity, she plucks her ratty old band t-shirt and fans herself a little before turning dark brown hues fully to the lady.  

“ wh-what? ” the shock flickers over tohru like electricity, and she stumbles back a step, fingers curling where they rest over her heart, the soles of her shoes scuffing against the sidewalk.

the night has doused the sun in inky black, the cool midnight walk refreshing and easier on her dear friend than wandering in the sunlight.

“ I um— I don’t— ” her voice is sanded down, flimsy on her tongue. brown hues flicker between isuzu to anything except isuzu, then back to those dark, steady eyes.

“  no,  i  don’t  think  that,  ”    she says in a huff, returning the shorter’s gaze before quickly averting her eyes.  the strange heat that rose before has not cooled down and she can sense still the pink in her cheeks.  it embarrasses her.  it scares her.  isuzu frowns, eyes rolling,    “  but  listening  to  a  loser  like  kyo  won’t  get  you  very  far,  either.  you  really  should  be  more  selective  with  who  you  trust.  ”  

“ no, don’t talk about kyo like that. I trust kyo completely. I also trust you completely, ” she smiles again, a happy rose-petal shade touching the apples of her cheeks.

“  the  cat  is  a  moron,  ”    words hiss, spitting out from her tongue.  something stirs in the pit of her stomach.  isuzu doesn’t know what.  just like she doesn’t know why the mention of kyo bothers her so much, why now she feels so much ire for a sohma who tends to mildly annoy her at best.  she can only hope that tohru will not notice the redness that’s become her.    “  don’t  ever  listen  to  him,  do  you  hear  me?  he’s  an  idiot.  ”

“ what? I thought it was pretty good advice. ” she says, dropping her hands so her fingers fold together, a tiny smile settled on her lips. her gaze is cast up to isuzu, touched with delight just to be looking at her.

johanna’s words prompt raised eyebrows. “that sounds… sufficient,” she replies in a gentle if not awe-stricken voice. “um, the main thing is that i need protection. so, i’ll need you to be alert and quick to react.”

lydia looks over johanna; she’s certainly got a tough energy about her, even though she’s about an inch taller than lydia herself. though, she seems uncomfortable when her eyes graze over the art in lydia’s home.

she gestures to johanna loosely, adding, “lydia is fine, by the way–for referring to me. right now, i’d just like to get to know you a bit better. i’m… more comfortable knowing who’s guarding me. i hope you understand." she offers a smile out of politeness. "is there anything i need to know about you, or how you like to conduct things? any boundaries i shouldn’t cross?”

JOHANNA’S BLUNT NAILS idly reach to scratch a spot on the back of her hand, brow hues drifting from lydia out of one of her broad windows.

there is a thought, to offer danny somewhere to sit, but he bites his tongue. danny is not merely a guest, barely human yet in his patchwork skin, and mike is determined not to frighten him away - or worse, drag him into something he is unready for because he is so rigidly programmed to do nothing else.

“ it might make a noise after a few minutes, “ mike explains to the air mildly as he turns the closest burner on to set the kettle atop it. that is something to be mindful of, to pull it off again before it grew too loud. in the reflection, he watches how danny shifts his weight around and skirts the exits like a nervous thing, ready for flight at a moments notice. it is a feeling he is well familiar with. he opts, instead, to speak of nothing instead, quiet enough to remain mindful of tim’s rest.

“ i know tim’s usually more of a coffee person - i can be, but it’s a little late, i thought tea would do fine enough. i don’t know if … if you have any preference. “ again a glance, brief, not really expecting an answer. hell, he doesn’t even know if danny knows the difference, but does not want him to agonize over trying to predict some nonexistent correct answer.

“ you don’t need to, but there’s always enough for two cups. it’s just … hot water with some herbs. maybe some lemon or honey or something if you like. i’ll leave one for you, if you want to try it. ” as he continues, mike leans up to pull down a pair of mugs, having to briefly resort to leaning precariously on the ends of his toes to fish for the second handle.

FOR SOMETHING INHUMAN, he behaves benignly, so unlike anything in the circus mockingly imitating humans. instead of reassuring danny, it unnerves him, the idea that he might not see a danger lurking under a mask because the mask doesn’t look like those he knows.

he listens to every word mike divulges, explaining that tim is a coffee person now and that there might be a noise. danny would be lying if he said he remembered how to make tea, or what composed tea. it he hadn’t had anything hot to drink in his years rotting as a prisoner. it sounds nice— he obviously cannot accept it. herbs in hot water sound harmless enough but not when a monster is fixing the drink.

lydia’s been on edge ever since some rather unpleasant interactions with rivaling cartels. she doesn’t like conflict, especially not in the form of one of the salamancas’ associates finding her at her hotel bar in albuquerque. ever since her trip home to houston, she’d been absolutely paranoid, so much that she’d called mike who monotonously told her, ‘calm down. i’ll find somebody.’

so, she’s got a new body guard. she’s been waiting for the bell to ring or a knock at the door for hours it seems, and when she hears the rap of a hand against her door, she wastes no time in greeting her bodyguard. she opens the door after hearing her voice, relieved to see her – if not still a little on edge. (that’s hard for her to shake.)

“hi. please, come in,” she says, quickly gesturing for the other woman to come in. her voice is lowered to a hushed tone, cautious and careful. “you must be johanna. is there anything i can get you? something to drink, or… whatever you need? anything?”

JOHANNA EYES THE WOMAN BRIEFLY BEFORE STEPPING INTO THE FOYER, dark eyes scanning the high-roof ceiling and pieces of modern art affixed to the walls. she’s never been much into art. nothing she understood or cared to fake. she thinks rich people probably spend their cash on such garbage just as a status symbol, not because it actually means much.

she crosses her broad arms over her chest, a little uncomfortable in such a fancy place.

SO, JOHANNA HAS A NEW GIG.

some contract between snow and a rival organization— she’s not clear on the details, and nobody tells her anything. she was briefed on what her new assignment would entail, but not any reason behind it or any indication of how long she’d be in this new position. not that she’s complaining; it’s a step up from where she was before, or at least it sounds that way. because johanna mason is becoming a bodyguard.

she arrives at the doorstep of what must be the fanciest house she’s ever seen. finnick has told her of the sorts of places he’s been dragged off to, and they look in her minds eye, something like this. enormous glass windows and gold interior light stripping back the surrounding darkness. she isn’t even quite sure how to ring the doorbell, so johanna settles for knocking.

lydia breathes out something between an nervous laugh and a giggle. she considers telling johanna that she did not, in fact, order coffee, but johanna’s words make her reconsider doing so. “it doesn’t ‘taste like shit’. you did a good job.” she chuckles, shyly failing to maintain eye contact for more than a second. those dark, earthy eyes sure are lovely.

her small hands fidget together, thumbs twiddling. taking a sip of the coffee, she tries to get accustomed to the taste. it’s not the tea she ordered, but it isn’t bad. “thank you for getting the soy milk correct.” she pauses momentarily, searching her mind again for what to say. “i, um… i like hot girls, too. though, i don’t always know what to say to them…” her gaze returns to johanna’s, a bashful smile.

IT’S SILLY, BUT SOMETHING ABOUT HEARING SHE DID A GOOD JOB presses warm fingertips into her cold little heart. lydia is like a little flittering bird, barely able to keep her set gaze, but curious nonetheless. johanna has her attention, and she has johanna’s.

“a… coffee?” lydia’s eyes widen, heart racing. oh, no. she definitely didn’t ask for a coffee. she’d ordinarily be bothered by the mix-up of an order, and maybe she is a little startled by it, but it’s not something she’ll complain about. she lacks the confidence to say anything about it, and when johanna asks to take her break with lydia, she can’t turn her down.

“right—yeah, of course. i don’t mind.” cue a smile that’s a little nervous, her cheeks still hot with both embarrassment and shyness around someone so attractive. she cannot get over being called sweet stuff, even on the third time. taking a sip of coffee, she tries to play it cool, as if it’s the exact thing she ordered. “feel free to have a seat with me, johanna…”

a long pause, almost a bit awkward, as lydia figures out what to say. then, she blurts out, “i like your hair. it’s very spiky.” 

IT DOES NOT ONCE OCCUR TO JOHANNA THAT SHE HAS MIXED UP LYDIA’S ORDER. she still wears that sharp-toothed smile hooked into her mouth as she slides into the seat across from lydia.

“ hell yeah! seems like it’s pretty good at attracting hot girls. ” she folds her fingers together to make a bridge upon which she rests her chin, watching lydia with her dark, earthy eyes.

lydia’s face turns a rosy shade at being called ‘sweet stuff’ not once, but twice! she clears her throat, pleasantly surprised (if not a little flustered) by what must be a flirtation. “oh! um, my name’s lydia. what’s yours?” she asks the question as smoothly as she possibly can, as if this is a friendly encounter and not a business exchange. once she realizes what she’s said, her face reddens even more, green eyes widening.

“um. sorry. i’ll just…” she reaches into her purse, fumbling around for her wallet and taking out her debit card to hand over to the lovely woman behind the counter. “here. yeah, that — that sounds like the right order. thank you again.” her mind is far too overwhelmed to even consider if that’s the right order, but that’s fine.

sweet stuff. how cute; lydia is completely caught off guard, but not in a bad way.

“ JOHANNA! ” she barks immediately, like she enjoys the sound of her own name. “ I’ll get that right up for you, lydia sweet-stuff. ”

lydia pays and johanna gets to work fixing up a medium coffee with soy milk and— well, there’s no stevia turns out, but blue sugar packets are close enough— then brings it over to where lydia has sat herself down.