Bickslow had set up shop in Magnolia over two years ago.

His tattoo parlor wasn't exactly overflowing with guests each day, but it was a steady business, with a good income of customers and lack of financial issues. He'd first opened the shop when he'd broken up with an ex-girlfriend that seemed like forever ago, as a sort of retaliation against her dislike for his tattoos. Two years later, he couldn't have been more grateful for cutting her off, because the shop had been popular enough that he was able to move on, no money trouble ever arising.

Three days ago, a flower shop opened up next door.

The girl that ran it was around his age; young, but not young enough that her shop was not taken seriously. It was nicely decorated, with cream paint coating the outer walls and glass windows displaying several changing flower displays at a time. Bickslow had never entered the establishment, never actually being in a situation in the last fortnight in which a bouquet of flowers were a necessity, but he did think that it looked cute enough that he would never have to.

Next to hers, Bickslow's store darkened dramatically, with rudy brick walls and black wrought iron trimmings along tinted windows, and a black door. Only two windows sat on this wall, each too dark to really see through, with images of tattoo patterns posted on every other square inch of surface.

It was true enough that the visual contrast between his store and hers, side by side, was obvious to anyone from the outside. The flower shop seemed to rise out of the ground like a daisy in the cracks of a sidewalk, whereas the parlor remotely resembled a somewhat goth looking leaf left after being crushed under someone's foot. The last time Freed visited his store, a yesterday, he'd described the scene as a 'fancily iced, vanilla cupcake, sitting next to burnt attempt at a dark chocolate one'. Bickslow had been mildly disappointed at being referred to as the latter, but his love for chocolate was enough for him to appreciate it.

At the current moment he sat in the backroom of his parlor, sprawled out against a small couch and idly swiping through his phone. It was still almost half an hour til opening time when he heard the door chime, foreign footsteps echoing on his wooden floors. Bickslow frowned as a cautious voice called out a 'hello?', and got up from his seat to go greet the person.

He did so slowly, emerging from the curtained back room with a watchful expression, examining the visitor. It was a rather unintimidating looking woman standing with her back to him. He couldn't help but frown further. She didn't look anything like his regular genre of customers, and certainly didn't look like she was about to rob him empty. "We're not open yet," he announced, since she apparently hadn't noticed him.

She jumped the slightest, and turned to greet him. His breath hitched in his throat at she smiled at him, cheeks pink. She was short yes, but obviously around his age, with smooth, pale skin and flowing silvery hair that stopped a few inches below her chin. She was dressed for heat despite the faint autumn chill outside, in a white flowery dress that ended above her knees. She had eyes like the sea, and Bickslow had gulp and keep himself from staring. This chick was gorgeous.

He cleared his throat again, trying not to distract himself. "We're not open for another half an hour," he repeated.

"Right, of course, I'm not a…" The girl seemed to be having trouble expressing herself, and Bickslow could see her noticing his face tattoo. "I'm not a customer, I own the flower shop next door," she explained, easy-going.

Bickslow mouth formed a small 'o' in understanding before walking over to extend his hand. "Sorry I never stopped by. I'm Bickslow," he introduced, and she shook his hand gratefully.

"Lisanna." She had a very honest, gentle voice, Bickslow decided, feeling himself go sappy. Had he already mentioned that she also looked like the personification of springtime?

"So… can I help you?" he asked, scratching his neck.

She laughed a bit, and shook her head out lightly, something he'd seen her do twice now. "Sorry, I almost forgot. I know it's early, but could you help me with some shipments I have to take in? They're a bit more than I can handle and I'm already late with setting up shop," she explained, looking at him for an answer.

Bickslow glimpsed the clock on the wall across from him. Still plenty of time left. He looked back to her, and her questioning face, and immediately gave in. "Sure."

Her smile reappeared, and Bickslow had to fight the urge to groan. "Thanks, follow me." He walked behind her as they left the shop and moved towards hers, directly to the right. The glass door jingled, just as his own did, when he opened it. As he entered for the store for the first time, his nose was instantly bombarded with a flurry of smells.

It was visually pleasant yes, but the charm of the store derived from the sweet, natural scent that filled it, the brightly colored flowers of variety sticking out from every wall working just as strongly, but not as nauseatingly, as perfume. Bickslow nodded in approval as he examined the quaint shop, feeling himself very out of place there, in his darker clothing and tattoos.

"Here," she said. "Just keep this door open and I'll get my stuff. It'll take a few trips." He paused, confused, as she picked up a ring of keys from the front counter and walked back out the door. He shuffled to wait by the door, foot holding it open, and she walked out ahead of him. She arrived a few seconds later with several boxes piled in her arms, and his confusion only rose.

"Why am I not helping you?" he voiced bluntly.

She blinked in surprise before setting down the boxes. "I need you to hold the door open."

"But there's a door stopper." Bickslow pointed to the wooden doorstopper.

She looks down at it too. "Oh."

Afterwards, with the help of their new, handy-dandy door stopper, he followed her out, at her side as they both piled their arms with cardboard boxes stacked in the trunk of her car. "So how's the uh, first three days here been? Liking Magnolia?"

She caught his eye and her corner of her lips twitched. "Yeah, I'd hope so, I've lived here for twenty-three years."

He made a face at his own mistake. "Yikes."

She laughed, and he was definitely enjoying how free she was becoming next to him. "But, yeah, the store's been doing well. There's a weird lack of flower stores around here, so business took up fast," she remarked.

Bickslow hummed in agreement, and the two dumped the final trip's worth inside her store. "How long have you owned the parlor?" she asked, leaning with her back against the store's front counter.

Bickslow shrugged, and crossed his arms. "Bought the place a few years ago. It's a steady business." He paused, and then went on, somewhat excited with the idea of making her laugh again. "I opened it up when I broke up with a girlfriend, actually. An act of rebellion, if you might."

She murmured in amusement. "Really?"

"Yup. She had a problem with tattoos. That was also around the same time that this," he gestured theatrically to his face, "happened." She burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, that is the most flamboyant way to go out," she laughed, and he grinned back at her. "Just, marking up your face, right before you break up."

"Don't forget the tongue," he said, and stuck it out for her to see. She doubled over, cackling. He felt pride surge up in his chest. He was making her laugh. When she straightened again, she was still gasping a little, small laughs still falling freely from her mouth. Her face was flushed pink again.

Bickslow found himself mesmerized with the image. He cleared his throat. "Hey, would you maybe want to-"

The chiming of the door opening again interrupted him, and both Lisanna and Bickslow turned to see a woman waving her hand rapidly to gain their attention. His face fell, and Lisanna told him apologetically, "Sorry, I technically had an appointment like, half an hour ago."

Bickslow nodded in understanding, and tried to speak again. "I was just wondering if later-" The female customer jostled him aside, and, much to his irritation, grabbed a patient Lisanna's arm, all but dragging her to one of the flower displays on the wall. By the time Lisanna was aware of what was going on, the woman had already launched into a full explanation of what she was looking for.

Lisanna was able to glance over the woman's shoulder and shoot Bickslow another remorseful look, to which he grinned a bit in return, raising a hand to signify his leaving. His face fell as soon as he turned from her, walking quickly to the door. He couldn't believe the moment had ended so quickly, he should've asked quicker, he couldn't believe some customers could be so annoying-

"Wait!"

Bickslow halted, and turned slowly. Lisanna leaned forward, like she was about to follow him, and smiled gently. The customer was tapping her heel impatiently. The owner of the store ignored her, and looked only at Bickslow at her next words. "Meet me at the Cafe Morado, around eleven?"

Bickslow's eyes widened, but he was quick to reply this time. "See you there. I'll tell you all about my other tattoos," he added, cheekily, if he did say so himself.

She laughed out loud, and mock saluted him. "Till then, Bickslow."

"Till then, Lisanna."

please read and review, and leave requests for other ships/fandoms, if you'd like