(Untitled)

Jun 22, 2006 13:49

June is a good month for roses.

V has set an armful of them on the table, and is carefully examining each one before setting it aside, gingerly, more for fear of hurting the rose than from being scratched by the thorns.

His gloves are thick, anyway.

jack frost, john constantine, v, death, lady macbeth

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Comments 48

_to_the_bone June 22 2006, 17:52:41 UTC
"Red roses are supposed to mean true love" says Jack from a nearby booth, leaning over the back of the seat and smiling.

"Are you courting? Or are you a botanist?"

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before_w June 22 2006, 17:57:23 UTC
"I do have an interest in the sciences, but I grow these more for a lady."

Or three. One for someone he never met, one for a lady with bone white skin, and one for the lady with blind eyes.

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_to_the_bone June 22 2006, 18:04:44 UTC
"They are lovely."

He sets his chin on folded hands.

"She will appreciate them, I hope."

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before_w June 22 2006, 18:07:25 UTC
"She will never see them, in all probability," he says cheerfully from behind the mask, "but I grow them for her anyway. Those who will receive them--well, perhaps some will appreciate their beauty."

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bloody_awful June 22 2006, 18:05:07 UTC
"She loves me, she loves me not?" says the bloke in the rumpled trench coat at the end of the bar.

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before_w June 22 2006, 18:09:43 UTC
"She is fickle with her affections," V agrees, dropping one rose that bugs have gotten to apart from the others.

"But I intend to woo her back, if at all possible."

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bloody_awful June 22 2006, 18:10:30 UTC
"Luck to you, mate," he says, glancing over at the kohl-eyed girl at the end of the bar. "We all need all the luck we can get."

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before_w June 22 2006, 18:13:02 UTC
He glances--

and stops, for a moment.

"You know milady, then."

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last1out June 22 2006, 18:09:23 UTC
She sees him, and grins. And waves a bit.

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before_w June 22 2006, 18:13:48 UTC
The mask always smiles.

But V smiles now, and approaches, offering her one perfect rose with a slight bow.

"Milady Tomato."

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hands_unclean June 22 2006, 21:29:44 UTC
Thane of Fife had a wife... who is at present studying the fellow in the mask. And his roses. They are a lovely sort of flower, for what they're worth.

"How many are your blooms?" asks Lady Macbeth, trying to see behind the eye holes.

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_queue_ June 23 2006, 02:13:41 UTC
"Another one-letter nom de guerre," comes a sardonic voice that hadn't been there a moment before.

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