quin walker

"That must suck, I know I couldn’t live without some flowers in my home but I suppose you don’t get to buy many bouquets, yourself." Jasmine said, her lips curling down in an expression akin to a pout. Even in her home there were flowers everywhere, in her living room, in the dining room, her patio. Every corner was filled with vegetation, she felt more energetic just by the proximity, she wondered at times how much of that was caused by her genetics and how much was to be attributed to her personality. "Thank you!" she exclaimed as the man brought the stepladder over and she shook her head, with a laugh to refuse his kind offer, he’d done enough to help. "That’s fine, I’m wearing heels so I’m sure I can reach those lovelies for you." she said, as she got up on the stepladder and retrieved the flowers she’d been looking for. 

"No, I usually just stare at the empty vases until Camilo gives in," Quin said, far too straight faced. After a second he added, "my husband." And then gave up the pretense of seriousness as he slid his hands back into his pockets and rocked a bit from tip toes and back to his heels. "He usually sticks to tulips, though. Less pungent." He smiled at Jasmine and stepped closer as she got onto the step ladder. Behind her, but off to the side a bit, he kept one hand up in case she slipped or needed a makeshift rail when she stepped back down. "My mom was the same, actually." He watched as she selected the flowers so easily. "Not with scents, with flowers. She loved having plants everywhere she could. There were window boxes of herbs everywhere." As soon as she was safely on the ground again, he stepped aside. "Thank you. They're very beautiful." He half reached to brush a petal before he dropped his hand; better to wait until he'd gotten them home to fuss. 

Jasmine gave a little nod, her lips pursing in an apologetic smile as the man explained his word choice to her. “I understand. Maybe there’s medicine that can help you for that problem, the strong smells I mean not the headaches.” she suggested as she walked around the shop in search of the blue violets he had requested. When she finally found them she made a noise of triumph, her joy was short lived though as she realized they were too high for her to reach. “There’s a step ladder in the backroom, could you bring it to me?” she asked to the man, as Cordelia and Mila had taken their lunch break an hour after hers with her permission and she was alone in the shop.

Quin shrugged with a small smile. "Willow bark helps with the headaches, actually. I've always got a pot of it at home. But not the strong smells. Apparently I'm just cursed." His smiled deepened when she sounded triumphant, fine lines deepening around his eyes as he hid the grin behind his hand. Still, he glanced from the flowers to her and nodded immediately. "I'll be right back. It's just through there, right." He gestured toward the back room and took the direct path back. It only took a moment to locate the stepladder -- there were only so many places it could logically be -- and he carried it back to Jasmine. "Sorry for the trouble," he said as he set it down. "Would you like me to get them? I've got a little extra height. Just a bit." He held up his fingers, barely an inch between them to encompass his over six feet of height.

So be sure when you step, step with care and great tact. And remember that life’s A Great Balancing Act. And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.) Kid, you’ll move mountains.

Rowan recognized the gesture, and he continued on musing about the subject with the man with a bright light in his eyes. “I totally get what you mean—there’s definitely some parts of town I’d never ever go alone. I agree, it’s way too dangerous, especially with all of the creatures and hazards and lord knows what else lurking around. I try to stick to the paths that I know, since they’re, relatively safe and the scenery is always nice. I don’t know, there’s just something about being out in nature that I really like. If I could, I’d live out in the woods.”

Hands back in his jacket pockets, Quin smiled rather warmly as Rowan rolled with the conversation. "Relative safety's usually the best kind," he said with a small nod and a faintly serious frown, which wasn't serious at all. "I agree with you, though. Most of my life, I traveled." For a moment, he raised his shoulders nearly to his ears as though huddling against a chill that didn't exist. A little smile clung to his lips, though and he tilted his head up for just a moment, recalling. "Cities, towns -- ghost towns, sometimes -- and sometimes just a stretch of trees or a field to pull off on for a night. I always loved those as a kid. The surprise of it. I don't guess I grew out of it."