Ever since he got hired by Resurgam, saving him from a sure fate of homelessness would have he not been given the opportunity, his life has been streamlined to a peaceful pace: wake up, get ready for work, go to work to save lives as much as possible, spend some free time wondering what to do about said free time, make lunch or dinner or whatever depending on what time of the day the shift was at, go to bed, rinse and repeat. It's not a bad routine, especially after spending so much time in the confinement of his frigid cell.
Grateful, he's so grateful. He doesn't really have the words to express it, but he's nothing but grateful about the opportunity.
Summer has come back since, this time, without the illness-spreading monarch butterflies, without the black bruises moving about, without the stench of sickness and early demise. It brought with it colours in the sky, the grass, the world – even people change colours a little when the pretty season comes around, in a wide array of tones and lighter clothing. It's still a little foreign to him because the warmth this year is gentle, very far from the scorching heat of the Rosalia epidemic – it feels nice.
For one of the first times in so many years, something he doesn't fully know or understand feels nice.
Since his liberation from prison, Erhard has had the time to rediscover both the world and his identity. It's been quite the journey to go from the prisoner who caused the death of so many people to a surgeon working for Resurgam where, on every shift, he also learns from his patients about so many things he missed over the years: the gossip, the great spots in town, new music, new foods.
Food, on second thought, is one of the things he's missed the most during his prison stay. They don't serve you good food when you're a bioterrorist in a freezing cage: he got used to the plasticky feel of overcooked meat and the tasteless textures of processed mashed potatoes. He was almost overwhelmed by the first candy he was given, by Director Patel when Resurgam officially hired him, almost crying from how much he had desired to once again taste.
He doesn't remember the taste this candy had, but ever since he mentioned it to his workmates, all of them have tried to find what it could have been. Was it acidic, like citrus? Was it sweet, like sugar? Was it spicy, like chili peppers? Or was it a bit bitter, like coffee, like being unjustly thrown behind bars?
They've tried asking Director Patel about it but, as much as she's tried to think about it, she's never remembered what exact brand it was: she just so happens to like changing her habits, so she tends to buy a lot of different flavours from a lot of different brands. Erhard thought of doing so: bringing diversity in his life is something he realized he had craved for years, no matter how much he tried to deny it and keep it way, way down inside of his subconscious.
Maria didn't take kindly to their director's inability to remember a candy flavour, so, to quote her, she was going to "get that flavour the moron had in mind and nobody was going to stop her from finding it, dammit". He couldn't have told why she was so insistent on it, so when he candidly asked, he got a fiery stinky stare back with a striking "because it's important, moron!". He didn't know what to make of it.
It's been a couple weeks since all of this candy debacle started, but Maria, as stubborn – no, determined – as she's always been around him hasn't let go of it. She occasionally brings him some of the candies she suspects are the one he ate: they never are, so she swears loudly every single time he has to admit to her the taste is at best familiar, then says that next time will be it, that next time is the right time.
So far, she's only gotten close to the taste, but he appreciates the intention too much to mind. It's a good excuse to spend time with her.
Today, she's back with another try, thus why they're back in his office (he has an office to his name now – this is still unreal to him, no matter what he name plate screwed into it says), with her wearing a big, bright grin on her face and him getting handed the suspected candy with a quick toss into his palm.
"'kay, now that one should be the one!" She excitedly says, very loudly, hands on her hips with a proud smirk.
Like the other times, he puts the candy inside his mouth and lets it melt before rendering a judgement. It's even closer than the previous one: it's mostly sweet, but there's this citric acid in the back as a secondary taste that makes it so memorable. However, it's still not exactly it: it's too sour. The one he remembers was sweeter than this sample.
Maria must have noticed the doubt on his face (he's been told he's been more and more expressive over the past year – good news, he'd say), as her expression falls into a crestfallen state. She's clearly let down, as she's always been during their taste tests.
"Tch, is that another fluke? Dammit!"
"I'm afraid so."
There is something in the air that, however, tells him Maria must be closer than she must be thinking right now. It's difficult to pinpoint what it is exactly or where it comes from – it's just familiar that specifically reminds him of Director Patel's candy. It's sugary, yet a little acidic… like the missing flavour they've been running around for so long.
"What flavour was your candy, Maria?" He asks, investigating.
"Huh…" She stares at the bag she's brought with her. "Peach and lemon. Why?"
"There's something in the air I can't put a name on… What was it?"
Maria looks puzzled and makes a funny face at his question but nonetheless starts sniffing the air. Before long, she smells her own clothes, leading her to a revelation.
"Ah, that's actually my hair mist! Tomoe gave it to me, so I figured I should wear it so she couldn't bug me about it. Smells like… mandarin, I think?"
"That's it. It must be the second fruit in the flavour of the candy. Peach and mandarin."
Maria now seems very much lost but perks up quickly after.
"…who even makes peach and mandarin candy?!" She chuckles a little. "Well, mystery solved I guess. Weird turn of events, but why not."
"Thank you very much for your assistance in this, Maria."
She looks startled a bit, blinking rapidly with wide eyes. However, she's soon after blushing a little looking away.
"You're welcome, I guess, moron."
Then she looks back at him, hands in her pockets, pouting.
"…you'll let me taste 'em, right?
He feels a little smile coming.
"Of course."