Civilian’s thoughts stirred as she walked down the sidewalk toward her work. It was a dreary day. Rain smudged the world into grey, mottling the skyline into a blur of hazy watercolor.
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep Villain out of her thoughts.
Roses were a bit cliche, as far as romantic gestures go. (This could hardly be called that, but what else was she supposed to call it?) Yet there was something truly thoughtful in the fact that they weren’t severed from their bush only for them to shrivel and die. They were potted deep into fresh soil, roots unmarred with space to grow so that she could cultivate them herself.
Anyone who had given her flowers in the past had plucked them from the ground, or offered her up a supermarket bouquet of $8 roses with sliced stems and a life expectancy of 6 days or less. The fact that Villain of all people had considered that her love of plants extended to her love of nurturing them, left her dazed and a little dumb-struck.
He could have killed her.
It would have been no inconvenience to him to have let her fall. Instead, he fixed her greenhouse. He gifted her something that he knew she would appreciate. It only took a flick of his gaze to assess what would matter to her and act on it.
He saw more of her in a quick glance than most people had her entire life.
The splash of water brought her back to the present as her boot plunged into a particularly deep puddle. She grimaced, pausing as her sock squished inside her shoe.
Shehadto stop daydreaming about criminals. Well, thiscriminal in particular–goodness knows this certainly wasn’t a regular occurrence!
The soft thud of footsteps behind her prompted her to turn her head. A large man in all dark colors trudged in her direction, his gaze fixed on her.
Unease swirled in her stomach, but she continued walking. Work was only a few blocks further, and how often did her paranoia that someone was following her turn out to be true?
Civilian glanced back again. The bulky man still walked with purpose toward her.
