it's PHIL, for god's sake

“So you’re trying to tell me that knocking over the flower pot is a natural response to me actually greeting you for once? I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m trying to be friendly. Thanks for the extra work, Miss Sunshine.”

“How can you tell? Wait, are you drunk again?”

“Yeah, I do see that. Try not to fall down the stairs when you go up to your apartment. I’m not really in the mood to wipe up your blood from the floor.”

BASICS

Full Name: Phillip Wagner Nickname(s): Phil Age: Twenty-Seven Date of Birth: January 7, 1988 Zodiac Sign: Capricorn Place of Birth: New York City, NY Religion: Protestant Species: Human Education: High School, College Occupation: Flower Shop Owner Language(s) Spoken: English, German

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Boyd Holbrook Hair Color: Blond Eye Color: Blue Height: 6′2″ (188 cm) Build: Athletic Tattoos: None Piercings: None

PERSONALITY

Label: The Loner, The Next Door Neighbor, The Pessimist Positive Traits: Careful, Creative, Honest, Modest Negative Traits: Aggressive, Cynical, Impatient, Selfish Goals/Desires: Leaving NYC behind to see the world, independence Fears: Heights, flying, elevators

FAMILY

Father: Dominik Wagner Mother: Andrea Wagner (née Olsen) Sibling(s): None Other relatives: Adam Wagner (cousin), Stefan Wagner (uncle) Pet(s): None

TESTS

"No need to thank me, it’s a given." She tried to keep up some sort of eye contract, stop him from turning into the hulk version of himself again but he seemed to be all over the place,  something that made her smile a little. "We are, I guess. I’m Daisy." For a second she considered shaking his hand but something told her to let it go. So far this was going well. Maybe he’d hate her a little bit less from now on. Who knew. 

With her new found courage and the need to seem a little bit cooler than she actually was, Daisy wanted to lean against one of the shelfs which turned out not to be very stable. Once her weight rested against it, the shelf started moving, causing the pots on top to shake. She grabbed the wood and held it still until there was complete silence except the blood that rushed in her ears, making her cheeks turn fire red and the pouding sound of her heart but those weren’t sounds he was aware of.

The thought vanished the moment she--Daisy--almost knocked over one of the shelves. His immediate response was anger, as it always was, but gladly he didn't get the chance to do anything worse than looking at her accusingly, for she managed to grab it before the pots fell down. Instead of making a snarky comment, he crossed his arms, a judgmental look on his face. "Name's Phillip, but don't call me that. I usually go by Phil."

When she saw him walk over to her, Daisy smiled in his directon. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all? Maybe he got stuck at the wrong place and it affected him more than he wanted to admit? At least it would make sense and Daisy could start to wrap her mind around him and his behavior. Knowing that someone was bitter for a reason was easier to understand than groundless hatred.

"It’s nothing, I’m okay. I don’t want you to have to stay here for the night. We’ll find it." She kept up the smile and moved on to the last pot and quickly searched it. She pushed the leafs aside and peeked but there was nothing to be seen. With a sigh she faced him once more. "Well, it’s not there but maybe…" Daisy paused and looked around the room. She had no idea why she wanted so badly to help him, she simply did. She scanned the room like the keys were a criminal, trying to hide, until she eventually shook her head and shrugged. "I don’t know, I’m sorry."

Phil couldn't comprehend why she was smiling—at him? They hadn't found the keys, and were probably not going to find them anymore. He rolled his eyes at her words, a smirk following. "Your concern is touching, really, but I live here anyway so it doesn't make much of a difference if I sleep in the back, or wait here for the lockout service." Her persistence was possibly even more annoying than anything else, but in that moment, he appreciated the effort she put into helping him. He didn't even know why she agreed to do so, neither did he understand why she was so hell-bent on completing the futile task.

She turned back around to the pots and almost knocked one over. She gasped and caught it right before it fell off the shelf, carefully putting it back in its original position. Going downstairs was a bad idea. She should’ve went to sleep and ignored him instead. It’s not like he’d do the same for her. No, he’d just keep on being rude and displeased. Sometimes she wondered if he actually knew how to be happy.

"No, I’m not sick. I’m okay." She put on a convincing smile even though he couldn’t see it. However, a second after she answered, Daisy sneezed again. With a sigh, she lightly nodded her head. "Yeah, I guess I’m sick." Liar. 

"What about yourself? Do you plan on spending your whole life here?" he asked, surprised that he was actually trying to socialize with the usually annoying blonde. His voice however implied that no matter what her reply was, he was going to judge her anyway; Phil blamed it on the lack of sleep rather than the desire to judge someone for no reason. Awaiting a response, he moved on to the last remaining pots on his side of the shop. To him it was pretty clear that he wouldn't find his keys in any of them, but there was at least the smallest glimmer of hope.

As he heard her fumbling around with a pot--Phil assumed that she'd almost knocked it over--he asked himself whether it had been that much of a good idea to ask her of all people to help him. Ignoring it as much as he could, he finished checking the last pot for the keys, and even the last glimmer of hope vanished. He did have to call the lockout service, and that would rob him of another night of sleep. Phil moved over to the blonde's side just as she sneezed once again. "I'm pretty sure we won't find the keys. I guess you should rather go back to sleep--since you're sick, you know." Phil folded his arms and shrugged, a gesture he probably used far too often in her presence. It certainly made him look like a guy without a plan, though saying that he did have a plan regarding any aspect of his life was definitely an overstatement.

"You said you kinda live at the store. Why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to make assumptions but to me it seems like you’d avoid this place like wildfire if it wasn’t yours." She peeked at him over the flowers and regretted her question right away. "I’m sorry. Forget it. It’s none of my business." She turned towards the pots again and started to search for the keys. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to someone. She never had such problems and here he was, the most difficult person she ever had the pleasure of meeting.

She was about to stutter out another apology when a sneeze came out instead. Welcome back, allergy. It wasn’t the best idea to practically hug the plants while looking for the keys. She hid her face in her hands while she sneezed again. And again.

He rolled his eyes at her question, thankful for the fact that she couldn't see it. More often than not she was just too nosy for his taste, but he decided to at least give her an answer, and not ignore her completely again. "Well, it really is none of your business," he started, searching another pot for his keys, "but we're kind of neighbors so I reckon you're allowed to be nosy to a certain extent." Phil stressed the last words, so that she wouldn't think she was allowed to bother him whenever she wanted. "Anyway, see that door behind the counter? It doesn't lead to a storage room or something. I've been living here since I took over the shop. I'm just trying to save money 'til I can leave this place for good."

When he turned back towards the flowers, he heard the blonde sneeze once--then twice, and once again. Phil didn't even bother turning around this time, or saying something like "Bless you." He merely searched the next pot and uttered, "Are you sick?"

"Well, we really shouldn’t waste any time standing here, should we?" She stepped outside, closing the door behind her and walking past him downstairs. Screw her outfit. This dude managed to lose his keys to the store inside of the store. She could walk outside in her pajama without having to swallow her pride. 

Once downstairs, she turned around and waited for him to follow. “Where did you look already? So I don’t do any doubles…unless you want me to.”

He watched her walk down before he followed her--he noticed that he was right about her pajamas before, but couldn't laugh at all--and when he caught her up, he opened the door to the shop before answering her question. "I've searched the counter and the rooms behind the shop, where I kind of live. You could help me search the flowers, it might've fallen into one of the plant pots. You'll take the right side and I'll do the left, okay?" He folded his arms and looked at her, waiting for her response.

"What is it?" For a second she was sure it was just another pretext to hit her with his best shots but once she looked a little closer she realized how uncomfortable he must have felt himself. The way he looked around and talked, the shrug. Those simple things that revealed that maybe this time he might be a little bit more genuine than she was used to.

"Anyway, perhaps you've seen them somewhere when you went through the shop? Or you could help me find them--if it's not too much to ask for." He dropped his gaze and let out a bitter laugh. None of this was worth embarrassing himself. "I really wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I've been searching for about an hour now, and--," he stopped, not knowing how to continue the sentence. His whole reasoning sounded as if he was trying to vindicate himself for the dumbest crime ever committed. All he wanted was to get back to his shop right away and sleep.

A loud knock on the door woke her up. She looked up to the clock and her heart started racing immediately. No one should have access to that door at that time. Grabbing her phone, she tiptoed to the door and waited for a few seconds before energetically opening it. Only that instead of a criminal, the worse of two evils stood in front of her, the flower boy.

She gabed at him for a few seconds before slowly shifting behind the door so he wouldn’t see what she was wearing. He avoided any kind of interaction ever since she met him and now he stood in front of her door in the middle of the night and if he’d start to strangle her, she wouldn’t have been suprised.

"What are you doing here?"

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" he asked, hoping that a few seconds of small talk would make it easier to ask for her help. The look on her face however seemed to tell him to leave immediately. "Uh, well," he started, looking around and scratching the stubble on his jaw, "I was wondering whether you could help me with something? I know it's pretty late, so, uh, feel free to say no." He shrugged slightly.

He tilted his head to catch a glimpse at where she was still standing, hoping she was gone already; but of course there she was, watching him as if she’d expect him to do something special now. “Yeah, I’m closing now,” he said, straightened himself and walked past her to get to the shop’s door. It was earlier than when he usually closed, but the day had him worn out, and he couldn’t get himself to face any other customer. “You should probably get to your apartment now,” he uttered as he locked the door, and then turned around. She was still there.

She unlocked the door and was about to step inside but stopped in the last second. She turned her head over her shoulder. “Goodnight.” This time she didn’t bother to put on a smile. He never did, why should she? 

She held his gaze a little longer this time before looking away once more. The woman finally payed, smiled a smile that was wider than approppriate and left without a word. Daisy stood on her spot motionless for a few seconds before clearing her throat, her grip on the lillies turning harder. For some unknown reason she felt the need to apologize to him. Like the way he made her feel pesky was her own fault and she should know better. Instead she tucked a a lock of hair behind her ear and looked in his direction.

"Are you closing now?"

He tilted his head to catch a glimpse at where she was still standing, hoping she was gone already; but of course there she was, watching him as if she'd expect him to do something special now. "Yeah, I'm closing now," he said, straightened himself and walked past her to get to the shop's door. It was earlier than when he usually closed, but the day had him worn out, and he couldn't get himself to face any other customer. "You should probably get to your apartment now," he uttered as he locked the door, and then turned around. She was still there.