(no subject)
Luce isn't entirely sure what to make of the general population, right now. It's all a bit of a mess, though it has resulted in a number of new women about that Luce is trying to check out rather subtly. Or at least, she hopes it's subtle. She has this terrible feeling that she's fairly bad at it and she's wound up offending a couple of probably gay-blokes in the process.
She's at the open-air greenhouse, tending to the flowers because she thinks that she won't get into trouble here and anyone who knows her knows to come here.
She tries, desperately, not to think about Annie. Annie or Rachel or anyone with that face. She's been having enough trouble lately, but she can't keep drinking her sorrows away, she thinks as she clips the stems off another dozen roses that are going to go...well, she's not even sure. Maybe some temporary-women or changeling-men are in dire need of a florist.
That will be the day.
She's at the open-air greenhouse, tending to the flowers because she thinks that she won't get into trouble here and anyone who knows her knows to come here.
She tries, desperately, not to think about Annie. Annie or Rachel or anyone with that face. She's been having enough trouble lately, but she can't keep drinking her sorrows away, she thinks as she clips the stems off another dozen roses that are going to go...well, she's not even sure. Maybe some temporary-women or changeling-men are in dire need of a florist.
That will be the day.