When Lachlan pictured a florist in his head, he somehow came up with an image that was nearly identical to that of the woman in front of him: apron covered with dirt, hair flying out in all directions, aloof smile, and overtly feminine attributes—specifically, the crown of flowers that became more distinct as she neared. He felt comforted for a moment, because if anyone knew how to pretty up a thoroughly destroyed yard, it would be a woman who looked just like her. However, he was fully taken aback when she spoke, and he found himself staring at her, brows raised.

"Um... thank you," he said slowly. He'd been called tall before, along with all its variants, but never had his height been described as "delightful". He shook his head, because all of this was beside the point when he only had a nine hours of daylight left before he was left to stumble around his yard for another day. He couldn't afford a sprained ankle, not now. "I... Well, I know this is going to sound... strange." Hopefully florists were well-accustomed to strange requests. "But yesterday I dug up my entire yard,. I now realize having the ground around my home covered with a weak layer of dirt isn't the safest thing, so I need to replant everything. Soon," he explained, keeping an eye on her expression as he spoke.

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