g e n t l e n e s s

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Being met with Florence and a tub of sweets was never a bad situation to find oneself in (even if Belva usually avoided sweets, although less since leaving). Blue eyes widen slightly at the offer, a large grin on her face. “Any chance some of that almond fudge is vegan?” she asks, tilting her chin. “If not, I’d be happy for a chat instead of chocolate.” 

“Both are,” Flo assured her, “I know who I’m talking to.” While she couldn’t remember all of her customer’s allergies or favorites (as nice as that would be) Belva held a special place in her heart. As strange as it was, Florence was more of a loner --- she had never been able to make true friends. The blonde treated her more like a friend than someone she hardly knew, and she probably didn’t realize how appreciated it was. “I’d gladly take you up on that chat, though. How have the holidays been treating you so far?”

“As good as those sound, do you happen to have anything made with berries?” Azra asked, “I have been craving strawberries like my entire pregnancy, but I think that this baby has finally broadened their horizons to any berry.”

“At least you know they’ll eat their fruits,” Florence smiled, her eyes lingering briefly on the woman’s belly. She longed to be in her place one day. She didn’t mind waiting until the right time, but she still felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy when she saw other mothers. Not that she wasn’t happy for them, of course. “I have some strawberry and blueberry muffins, and a raspberry dessert bar. I can bake you up something specific if you have a request and don’t mind waiting!”

… .

a man’s house had burnt to the ground, courtesy of his final nod. remnants of a home should not be a victory. and yet, no decision could have been wiser. no decision could have spared them more grief. the bakery was not out of celebration. demir would be a regular if he went to the bakery every time a grey plan succeeded. but something did feel different. 

the young woman standing behind the counter possessed that same aura of those who had not let themselves get wrapped up in the misdeeds. those who faced nothing but collateral damage. those who knew vidal athanas and all of his associates by name alone. how nice a life one must be. 

“ alright. ” red velvet. for as simple as they were, they looked of luxury. “ two red velvet cupcakes, then. ”

Florence’s smile only grew as the man took her up on the offer --- there was something about every single sell she made that filled her with pride. Especially when she watched the same faces return. She was making a living doing what she loved, baking things others loved too. Who wouldn’t be happy about that?

“Alright!” Punching the number into the register, she pulled two red velvet cupcakes from the freshest batch, placing them in a small white box. “That’ll be £1.50,” she cheerfully informed. “Would you like your receipt?”

Remy grinned happily, taking in the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and cream cheese and buttercream. “Those look delightful.” He replied, giving them a look. “Hmm, two for one… so if I get six… no, seven, just in case, I could get fourteen?” He asked, leaning against the counter. He thought it would be nice to bring a little treat to the house on the hill, everyone could definitely use a pick me up.

“Thank you!” Florence recognized the man from the day she’d showed up to the Athanas’ house --- a child of Vidal, she assumed. He hadn’t said so, but he’d mentioned they needed to watch out for reporters. She remembered him being kind then, so she smiled brightly now. “You sure could. That goes for all cupcakes, too, so you could mix and match flavors if you’re not a fan of red velvet, or just want to try something new.”

Florence seems completely unconcerned, no curiosity, unease, or pity in her gaze, and Belva feels herself relax slightly. If the other woman wasn’t going to bring up the town’s happenings, then neither would she, and so she simply replies with a, “Oh, you know,” slim shoulders lifting in a shrug. “How about you?” Her smile isn’t quite as bright as normal, but Florence’s cheery personality does make it easier to manage a genuine one. At the mention of a cheesecake bar, she knows she’s made the right decision to stop by the shop today, and leans in, tone bright. “That sounds so tasty.” Reaching out, the blonde pops a sample into her mouth, eyebrows pulled together slightly in thought. “It’s great as is, but maybe…some lemon juice? Or something else that’s kinda tart, you know?” 

She didn’t know, but Florence took the less informative response as a hint that Belva didn’t want to dive into it, and she didn’t blame her. It hadn’t been that long since her father had died. She was probably still grieving, not to mention she’d left town for a reason, but now she was back and seemingly sticking around. Change was never easy. “I’m doing well! Been keeping myself busy in the kitchen.” Taking a bite of a sample herself, she nodded in agreement. “Too rich, aren’t they? That’s what I was thinking. I never know when to go easy on the sugar.” She had a bit of a sweet tooth herself --- that was the main reason she was a baker, after all. She wouldn’t be so passionate about making something she didn’t enjoy eating herself. “Lemon juice is a great idea! It can tone it down without changing the flavor too much. See, I knew I was asking the right person.”

Oversize sunglasses perched on her nose, Belva’s grateful for the sunshine that gives her an excuse to wear a floppy hat. It’s the perfect look for someone avoiding lingering gazes, and between the recent arrest and her mother’s strange note, that’s exactly what she wants to do. However, she was also craving comfort food, and Florence Kravets’ bakery was the place to go. “Hey, Florence,” she greets, Florence’s perky personality unchanged by the town’s recent drama. “Um, do you still do those vegan dessert bar things?”

“How are you doing, Belva?” Her smile remained bright and friendly, completely oblivious to the fact the other girl had been arrested not too long ago. With everything going on around town, she’d stopped keeping up with all of the negativity. “I sure do! I’ve even been working on a vegan cheesecake bar. I think it still needs some tweaking, though. How do you feel about cheesecake?” Pulling out a sample tray out from behind the counter, she slid it over to Belva. “Maybe you could tell me what you think it’s missing?”

It is her biggest dream she’s yet to reach in life.

Not one particular movie. She really enjoys 2000s romantic comedies --- How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, He’s Just Not That Into You, 50 First Dates --- and animal movies. 

“ thank you ! ” he was quite happy to hear that his face paint was not appreciated by just him and him alone. while that would’ve been fine, someone else thinking the bright colors were as lovely as he thought they were ( …not that she had exactly said that… ) could only make that proud glow grow. “ oh, yeah ! one of my siblings, cassia, has an art booth – they’re offering face-painting. i can show you over, if you’d like ? ” come to think of it, knowing cassia, the one who was doing the face-painting… he technically did know a guy.

the only prize he had ever managed to win at the festival was a small stick-on frog. small stick-on frogs were what you were offered if you managed to get one basketball in the hoop of the long-hooped game ( he didn’t know the proper name – it was just ‘the basketball game with the long hoops’ ). he’d been to the festival and played enough games to know that one of two things was true: 1) he was very, very uncoordinated, or 2) the games were rigged. they weren’t mutually exclusive, but, if he had to choose one, he’d lean more towards his poor coordination skills. sure, some games were going to be more challenging than others, but he’d seen people win at least once on all of them – they certainly couldn’t all be rigged. “ i like to think most of the parents wouldn’t let them play the game unless they had money for all the betta fixings ready, ” he remarked, finding her observation to be rather valid – more realistic than pessimistic, for sure. “ either that or they think it’s rigged, but that’s a pretty negative and dangerous outlook – for that specific game, at least. ”

“Oh, please!” Florence would not be content, now, until she was walking around glowing with flowers and a smile on her face the same way that he was. If she’d stumbled across the booth on her own she would’ve jumped in immediately. The game she’d spent twenty pounds on had taken up more of her time than she realized, and she hadn’t traveled very far throughout the festival, only stopping at a few booths even though she’d been there well over two hours. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen more people walking around as sunflowers and cats! Your sibling is a very good artist.”

She nodded, feeling some comfort. “You’re right.” It was unlikely they’d rig simple games like that, and it was even more unlikely that any parent would let their child play for a prize they weren’t prepared to deal with, the same way they wouldn’t buy them a drum set for Christmas if they couldn’t put up with the noise. Florence prided herself on being rather optimistic, but there was a gray line there when she found herself worrying over anything else’s well being. She still held onto her bright outlook, but she was so softhearted. “Oh, gosh! Do you know what time it is?” She glanced around them, suddenly realizing she hadn’t even checked when the competitions started. “Or better yet, when the bake off starts? This little guy,” she waved the plush bear around, “got me all distracted.”