#travert

London wept. There was nothing unusual about that; a day didn’t pass without some impotent drizzle, but conditions always seemed to intensify when it was least convenient. Felix had taken shelter from the storm in a flower shop, where he rifled through lush gardenias and tropical orchids with an absent hum. 

“Anything I can help you with, dear?” A prodigious stack of carnations asked as it wobbled its way past. Felix had to double-take to identify the truly minuscule woman hidden beneath the heap of vegetation, a polite refusal already forming in his throat. Then inspiration struck.

“Yes, actually.” Felix began, a look of strange malevolence flickering across his face as he turned away from a decorative cactus he’d been examining. “I’m looking for something that screams ‘Happy Anniversary’.” 

Jean-Lucien Travert was a snake -- manipulative, cunning, and gravid with ulterior motive. In short, he and Felix were cut from the same filthy cloth; it was only natural the two should become close consorts, though whether the relationship was fostered out of convenience or vanity was yet to be discerned. Either way, Felix had himself a particular sense of humor and wasn’t one to miss out on similarities, which was exactly why he made a habit of bringing his assosciate 'presents' whenever he dropped by. 

“Good morning, Jean." The broker smiled wryly upon entering, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bouquet of slightly soggy roses cradled in the crook of the opposing arm. Attached to it was a piece of violet cardstock with 'Happy Birthday, Princess!' printed across it in bright yellow lettering. Felix had conspicuously scratched 'Birthday' out with a fountain pen and written 'MONDAY' in the margin above it. "I come bearing gifts.”