Fanged Geraniums were the worst! Not that she was going to let Mrs. Potts know she thought so, in case the clever lady was of the opposite mind. Or she might toss Charley on duty with them anyway. The urchin was her newest, and youngest, worker and that one always got the worst jobs in every shop. She wasn't about to buy that she had a way with them, not for the second shop in a row.
Charley might be slow to learn, but she did learn.
"Toss 'em a new director? One a wee bit slower on the wavin' or summat?" Her hands came up as if she, Charley Goode, was not a mere flower girl but a concert maestro herself! She waved them as she might a wand, one in each hand, if she had music and not spells to conduct. A smile erupted as the urchin stopped herself, shaking her head a bit so her boss knew it was all a farce. A joke, one that even a former mortal enemy should be able to get.
"Reckon they might be gettin' ready to go to seed? Jes be clearin' their throats, yeah?" In reality, Charley had little clue what the daffodils might need. The old shop never had them, perhaps because the Florist Potts already did it better. Or perhaps it was that neither could, and Mrs. Potts was the only one barmy enough to try. "En't got the faintest what I'd do, 'sides a bit of what I did for the Geraniums. See, sometimes they just need a good, gentle rub in the leaf, good ol' fashioned nurturin'."
It calmed her enough at those times, anyway.
Charley might be slow to learn, but she did learn.
"Toss 'em a new director? One a wee bit slower on the wavin' or summat?" Her hands came up as if she, Charley Goode, was not a mere flower girl but a concert maestro herself! She waved them as she might a wand, one in each hand, if she had music and not spells to conduct. A smile erupted as the urchin stopped herself, shaking her head a bit so her boss knew it was all a farce. A joke, one that even a former mortal enemy should be able to get.
"Reckon they might be gettin' ready to go to seed? Jes be clearin' their throats, yeah?" In reality, Charley had little clue what the daffodils might need. The old shop never had them, perhaps because the Florist Potts already did it better. Or perhaps it was that neither could, and Mrs. Potts was the only one barmy enough to try. "En't got the faintest what I'd do, 'sides a bit of what I did for the Geraniums. See, sometimes they just need a good, gentle rub in the leaf, good ol' fashioned nurturin'."
It calmed her enough at those times, anyway.
![[Image: UNpj1yr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/bwXcVqtF/UNpj1yr.png)
Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.