8975/Flowery advice

Flowery advice
Date of Scene:	07 December 2021
Location:	Sherwood Florist, First Floor
Synopsis:	Alfred buys flowers for a friend. Gives advice based on a misunderstanding. Correct the understanding. Dinah flirts with Bruce by remote.
Cast of Characters:	Dinah Lance, Alfred Pennyworth

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Dinah Lance has posed:
This day was not shaping up well. This is putting things mildly. There was the little gang fight last night in which one unspotted (until it was too late) weasel managed to sneak a thrown brick into the Black Canary's face before she finally managed to rein in the crowd (and stomp the sneak who nailed her in particular).

Of course, how do you wash away the pain? A hot shower. And a bottle of Five Roses. All of it. Numbs the pain and warms the soul. I mean Audrey would have the shop tomorrow and ...

... 6AM phone call. A hung-over Dinah gets the deadly call: Audrey is in the hospital with some kind of infection and won't be able to come in. So a hungover Dinah with half her face bruised and swelling is going to have to take things over.

She did her best (and it was pretty good!). LOTS of makeup to get rid of the worst of the fire-red and deep purple colouration. The rest is a hairstyle away: half her longish blond hair now hangs over the left side of her face, keeping it in shadow and not calling attention to the massive bruising, the swollen tissue around the eye, and the grotesque shiner.

Yeah, that oughta do it!

Come 8AM, punctual as clockwork, Dinah, clomping down from her apartment above the store, put on her white "I'm some kind of vague scientist" coat over the street clothes, flipped the sign to "OPEN" and unlocked the door.

She'd endure.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Despite his ability to look all the part of a stately butler in dress, Alfred looks, quite uncharacteristically, worse for the wear. Bags hang under his eyes as he pushes open the door to the florist with a bag in hand. Laden with produce and more curiously a single bottle of Guinness, it swings idly at his side as he glances about the store. He offers Dinah a polite nod and a smile before padding about the arrangements with a studious eye.

    Off handedly, and perhaps with the vaguest hint of some desire of what he wants, he approaches the counter and sets the bag down next to his feet while allowing his smile to broaden. "Pardon, miss - I fear i'm rather out of my depth, and I was hoping for something pleasing to give to a friend - they're a little under the weather and they aren't exactly the most cheery of individuals. I was hoping to brighten up their room a bit with a floral arrangement. Do you have any suggestions?" he asked, turning to regard the woman more fully as he drew his attention from the interior design.

Dinah Lance has posed:
It takes a moment to gather herself, paste on that professional shopkeeper's smile (that looks almost, but not quite, completely unlike her gritting her teeth together in the hopes that it approximates the real thing) on her face, and turn to the customer.

"Welcome to Sherwood Florist," she says, voice lighter and more cheerful than her face can possibly show. Flinching a little at the sound of her own voice. "I'm sure I can help. In fact right off the top of my head there's not much that cheers as quickly and as effectively than a floral arrangement that puts a Chinese chrysanthemum front and centre. I have a good selection of those in pots right now--nothing like living plants to foster life, right?--and we can look some of those over and pick the rest based on which colour you choose."

Guiding Alfred to a table filled with mid-sized clay pots, each of which containing an enormous 'mum in a rainbow of colours, Dinah stands back to let the customer take it in, ready to jump in with advice if needed.

In fact she starts with a piece.

"If this friend is a little bit ... dour? Perhaps starting with one of the brighter yellow or oranges to symbolize sunshine."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    There was a moment of comprehension - a flicker in Alfred's eyes as they almost imperceptibly darted about her figure - and then a nod as his smile broke to a flat expression as he followed the woman and began to reply as he gestured about. "Ah, well, i'll defer to your best judgement then on a chrysanthemum. They've had a... rough couple of nights. Getting into fights they shouldn't with people they shouldn't, if you understand," he explained. Suggestive (though probably not exactly a false statement, given Alfred's associations) of 'something' on his mind, Alfred's smile returned in a soft fashion as he continued, "I like the sound of yellow though. Perhaps amidst lavender, or something else purple? A sunbeam in the dark?"

    He continued with another wave as he padded about, speaking in that same vague fashion, "It's difficult, when pain keeps coming to people who don't know how to escape from it, isn't it miss? Too often do I want to tell my friend how they should break from their circumstance, or seek outside assistance. I suppose when you feel stuck on a course though... at anyrate - is that too on the nose an idea?" he finished, padding about the display before turning back to regard Dinah with warm compassion.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah isn't stupid, blondeness notwithstanding. Alfred's eyes falling on certain key details got noted, paired with Dinah dying a little on the inside as the inevitable conclusion is drawn. Stifling the groan she feels like expressing, she nods thoughtfully through the double-entendres and pretends they went straight over her head.

Pretends badly. She flinches at 'on the nose'.

"Well, something dark surrounding it does the symbolism--a good choice--well, and additionally will make that giant bloom in the middle just pop, making it look even larger. Just don't say "Feed me, Seymour!" in its presence after that.

Dina's laugh is an attempt at being carefree but that carefree image falters a bit when her voice catches. Smiling hurts.

"Lavender is a good choice for colouration, though perhaps a bit light unless we're very careful with the selection. Violets might be better. Especially if your friend isn't the kind of person who appreciates the stronger floral scents. Lavender can fill a room and take ownership."

She seems almost ready to leave it at that, only...

"Your friend's fights. Maybe there's some inner demons? Maybe he--or she, I don't want to presume--needs some kind of exorcism: by psychologist or priest or just a good friend at a boozer?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"-Everyone- needs good friends, admittedly - if only to voice advice they won't take. Sometimes you just need to be pushed to a limit," Alfred quips dryly, chuckling in a deadpan fashion before turning about to search for the violets. "Fortunately though, I think I will likely take your advice. Violets then? What about those little shoots to accent things?" he asked, quickly changing gears as if to avoid either saying too much or being too pushy.

    Padding around the store, he furrowed his brow and listed his head to the side. "Maybe, keeping in the idea, something white - smaller? Not enough to detract from the chrysanthemum but to make it look like stars?" he asked in that fashion indicating 'I like the sound of this.'

    "But... fighting and getting beaten on are two different things. I've never had the nerve to ask, but I wonder if they're just a glutton for punishment. Enduring it all because they think it's just,"

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Lilly of the Valley or ... maybe ..." Dinah's face breaks into a mischievous smile, visible eye glinting in the light of the store. "... perhaps, given the proclivities you've described ... Crown of Thorns for the white?" The smile vanishes rapidly--pain--but the eyes contain that same glint of amused mischief. "We could garnish the display with Irish Moss to give a nice green underlay with more of your white blossoms. The overall effect could be quite peaceful and pleasing: sunrise over the greens, stars just beginning to fade into the night sky."

While speaking she gently directs Alfred to the violets, after which she points to the environmental cabinets with the mosses.

"If we're careful in selecting the rock, we might even manage to get a moon in there."

She pauses a moment then, closing her eye and taking a deep breath. "And I realize you saw and it's very nice of you not to mention it, but it isn't what you think."

Sweeping aside the masking hair, Dinah's swollen, bruised eye peeks out of the thin slit.

"This is going to sound like a cliche, but this was genuinely an accident." Little white lie. Partial truth. It was an accident that she let herself get hit like that. "I'm a motorcyclist." Truth. "I drive a bit crazily. Like presentation motocross crazy." Truth. "Sometimes I get hurt." True. Just not that way.

Letting the hair fall back down, she holds up one of her hands. "Look at the knuckles. See the bruises? I do the beatings, I don't take them."

Beat.

"Oh, GOD that came out wrong! I don't mean I beat people up in relationships! I mean that if it were to come to that, it would be me doing the beating and God I'm just digging myself in deeper aren't I?"

Flustered and confused, Dinah decides the best course is to shut up. Five minutes ago.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred's amusement is apparent, his smile broadening as he nods and waves a hand about. "I don't know much about my friend's night life, but I feel like you'd get along - if you don't already know them and aren't the one roughing them up at night," he joked, trying to diffuse the 'misstep' in conversation. "I'm familiar with the thrill seeking lifestyle, miss - forgive me if I overstepped my bounds. If I may assuage your concerns some, i'm not making up my friend in an effort to pry into a stranger's life."

    "What do you mean 'the rock'? I quite like the sound of what you have in mind, and if you don't mind, i'd defer to your judgement in the arrangement to make it happen. I have a stew to make still, and to present it with such an artistic view of a -pleasant- night, as opposed to what it sounds like the two of you are used to, would be a joy," he continued, his smile broadening ever so slightly. "I do so much appreciate wit and metaphor."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Well, irish moss is a... well... flowering moss. It generally grows on stones in life and here I try to foster it on stones."

Guiding Alfred to the cabinet, she points to one of the shelves. "Artisanally selected stones have moss faithfully transplanted to them and grown," she says, before adding dryly, "if by 'artisanal' you mean 'I went to a quarry and picked up a satchel full of rocks roughly the right size'." She snorts, then, with more of that mischief. "But I did carefully scrape moss and spread it around, growing it."

Gesturing to a grey stone almost completely covered in green, she adds, "That's sort of moon-coloured, isn't it? The moss hasn't bloomed yet, so you can't see the flowers, but when it blooms it will come out of nowhere and be a pleasant surprise."

A picture hung in the back of the cabinet illustrates.

"So a large lemon 'mum, surrounded by violets interlaced with crown of thorns, and this mossy stone with the starlight surprise then?" she asks.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
There's a snort - an unusual break of character for Alfred as he covers his mouth to cover the slight. "Artisanal simply means related to an artisan's profession, doesn't it, miss?" he returned in kind while nodding in appreciation at the idea. "Michelangelo took a stone and turned it into David. Who's to say your irish moss won't be the same, hm?" He turned to pad away some, creating space in the actual floral area before stopping at a repsectful distance.

    Glancing around in a seemingly idle fashion, he raises another pointed question - this time without as much vagary. "You seem an interesting young lady - if you don't mind me asking, what tears a talented woman such as yourself between the arts and... extreme motocross boxing? It seems quite the dichotomy."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"It's a family tradition, Sherwood Florist is," Dinah says with a strong undercurrent of pride. "I'm the third generation running it. I'm not going to do my mother and grandmother wrong by throwing it away."

The half-smile directed Alfred's way is positively beatific. "Besides, I like plants. They're inoffensive, beautiful, peaceable. They're nice to be around. Good income, nice plants, gives me the money to do the other side."

An arm gestures to the door of the shop. "As to the boxing ... have you SEEN the neighbourhood out there? I grew up here. Dad was a cop, then a detective. I heard ... the stories. You're predator or prey. Best be the kind of prey predators steer clear of, right?"

The visible eye hardens as she looks through the glass door, softening thereafter upon turning the gaze back to Alfred.

"People have tried things with me. They learned quickly to stand back." Beat. "And motorcycles are just fun."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Nodding agreeably, Alfred's smile softens slightly at the mention of a family business. "Ah, how lovely. I'm the second generation in my work as well, actually..." he replies wistfully, "Plants also don't really try to fight back - that's an important facet, when it comes to it all, right?" he continued, ramping up slightly in that sardonic fashion.

    "We have plenty of masked heroes running about these days, don't we? Why, I doubt i'm much of a threat to the ne'er-do-wells out there," he quipped - straight faced - "And I feel perfectly safe, knowing someone will show up from a rooftop, or in a ridiculous car, or on some souped up bike, should something ever happen."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I'm going to guess," Dinah says with a wry tone, "that your family business is 'a gentleman's gentleman'? You've got that look about you." There's a wistfulness about that, as if she wished she had the feminine counterpart in the form of 'a lady's lady'. "But yes, you're right. Plants are harmless unless you go out of your way to get the harmful ones and treat them wrong. They're inoffensive and ask for so little."

Her eye flicks over to her nursery workbench a moment with a glower.

"Except orchids. Orchids ask for everything and then die when you give it to them. Orchids are assholes. But so gorgeous!"

Fresh wound apparent.

At the mention of all the masked heroes, Dinah tilts her head like a cocker spaniel curiously observing. "I mean ... I guess the costumed crowd is ... OK? But it's still good to be able to fight back yourself, right?" Again mischief in her eyes. "I teach a few people how to do just that, actually. Over at a place called Grant's Gym. Owner was one of those costumed guys once, in fact. He claims he trained the Batman even. I learned a bit from him and now give weekly self-defence classes to other prey, toughening them up against the predators."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Rolling his eyes in mock distress, Alfred nods and concedes the observation before flashing his whimsical grin. "Quite so. I suppose the illusion of dapper older eligible bachelor would only last until it came time to pay. I have the honor of being the second in my family to serve as the Wayne family butler," he acknowledged, waving a hand about. "These brief forays outside of the estate are how I keep hold of my sanity." The joke was as dry as the rest, if just a little more fondly than possibly intended at the mention of his role in life.

    "Your struggle with orchids sounds something like my life though - I can't count how many meals have gone cold after laboring on them for hours," he continued with a laugh. "I admire the 'costumed crowd' and what they do. Were I just a bit younger I might give it a shot - I was quite the hellraiser in my day in service to Her Majesty's Armed Forces. Old age makes fools of us all though..."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Some of us start that way," Dinah says with a laugh. "I mean, I know how crazy it is that I go out onto dangerous vehicles and seek out dangerous places to ride all because I like that feeling of adrenaline flowing through my veins. But it doesn't stop me. Maybe I'm older than my age."

Pause. Head tilting the other direction, Dinah squints her visible eye. "Army? Majesty? You're British?"

And the brilliant blonde detective has made an inference!

Then something else filters through.

"Wait, did you say Wayne family? As in ..." Her finger points with eerie (but random) precision directly at where the Wayne manor would be were there not a lot of inconvenient buildings in the way. And a horizon. "... those Waynes?" She pauses, eye widened. "As in BRUCE Wayne?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Continuing the charade of mock outrage and the like at things, Alfred forced a scowl as he played the part of indignant patron. "Yes, -those- Waynes, but I think i've been photographed at least half as much as Master Bruce has - just because i'm not quite as fit or handsome as the man doesn't make me any less recognizable!" he protested, before shaking his head and chuckling. "Granted, the young man," (By comparison at anyrate, these days) "Is rather more photogenic than I.

    "But yes, I had the pleasure of serving Mister and Missus Wayne, after my father took ill, and we were both -quite- British. I certainly understand the need to seek thrills, I just fear i've rather become a curmudgeon who's outgrown his thrill seeking days."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah groans in mock pain. "The day after my accident is the day I got my chance to impress the Waynes with my flowers!" She over-dramatically looks to the sky, shaking her fist. "WHY DO YOU MOCK ME SO!?"

Which translates into a dissolving of giggles. Then a sharp intake of breath that cuts those short.

"Well, it's been an interesting challenge at any rate. Am I to take it that these flowers are for Mr. Wayne then?" Beat. Lop-sided grin. "And that you would be very disappointed if I left a card with my private phone number inside?"

And again the bell-like laughter.

"I'll get to work assembling your order and will deliver it personally, not by hired van, to ensure the display arrives in the best possible condition."

Besides, she wants to see the Wayne house up close.

"Thank you for ... well ... your patronage. This has proven very interesting. And I promise there won't be a sign on the door saying 'supplier to the Wayne family' three minutes after you leave. It will take me longer than that to find the card stock."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Offering a sagacious nod of his head, Alfred allows himself another laugh while offering a card to pay for the arrangement. "An enterprising young lady - I can't be certain what use the Wayne Foundation would have of a bike riding boxer, but that's also rather out of my wheelhouse. The flowers are for a different friend however, but you're more than welcome to drop them off at the manor," he explains. There's a hasty show of amateur slight of hand as Alfred produces a business card of his own - it simply reads "Wayne Estate" rather than a personal name, but includes the address and a phone number.

    "If you allow me some notice i'll have some tea and perhaps a meal ready when you make the delivery. I do love entertaining guests, though I can't promise Master Bruce will be present."

    Reclaiming his bag from the floor, he offers an incline of his head before his eyes shoot open, "Forgive me - Alfred Pennyworth, at your service, miss. I appreciate the conversation - and do try to avoid any more unnessecary 'accidents'? It will do an old man's heart so good to know one less young woman is endangering herself on the streets."