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The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree ( Submit your own)
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This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa
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How Much You Wanna Risk?
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March 9th, 1889 — Darrow/Bilton Flat

Alfred had been writing to Zelda Fisk fairly consistently since their "accidental meeting" at Fudge & Sons in December, but the letters they'd exchanged had been merely conversational. They were friends, that much was agreed, and he had asked her to come over and take a look at the potentially-cursed flat as a friendly favor. It was almost a professional visit, since this was what she did at the Ministry. Even so, he was nervous as he waited for her to arrive that morning. He was very much aware that this was the first time they would be alone since the night on the boat. Of course neither of them were going to let that happen again, but the day still tingled with possibility. She could just come over here and look around the flat, maybe get rid of the curse or maybe tell him how to contact the spirit division, and then leave. That would be fine. They were friends, and this was a friendly favor. If that was all it was, that was fine.

Or he could kiss her. This would be his first opportunity, since that night. The last time they'd been alone before that night, she'd asked him to kiss her, but that had been half a lifetime ago. Would she still want him to? She hadn't said anything in any of their letters over the past few months that pointed firmly to a yes. When they'd spoken in August they'd both agreed that they were very much interested in that sort of thing — but that had been before he'd been cornered in a closet by Ari Fisk and they'd stopped talking for months. He didn't know if Zelda had had a similar interaction with her brother after word had gotten around that they'd been seen together again, and he didn't know if she'd changed her mind.

He didn't need to kiss her. He didn't need to ruin things as they currently stood by pushing their relationship down a path she didn't want it to go down. If she just came over and had a friendly look around the flat and then left again, that would be fine. But he'd invited her over on a day that his flatmate was working, just in case — and he'd been very particular about that fact in his letter to her, just in case.

Alfred's heart was beating hard by the time the fireplace lit up green. Be cool, he told himself. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe she didn't want anything to happen.

"Hi," he said with a smile as she stepped out of the fireplace. He had the impulse to wave, for some stupid reason, but stopped himself. Be cool, he admonished internally once again. Don't be stupid. Don't do anything stupid.




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