Oh. Juniper thought she was talking about Mr. Blackwood! Poppy felt her cheeks warm and she refused to look directly at her friend and give herself away. Instead, she nodded appeasingly. “I don’t doubt it,” she replied. “I’ve no doubt even if he did prove less than, you’d put him in his place anyway.” She turned to June then and offered her friend a mischievous grin. Poppy always counted herself lucky to have a friend like Juniper; a friend that she could always rely on to help her out of trouble, even when that trouble was of her own doing. There were so many frivolous ladies out there who pretended at friendship to get close to one’s acquaintances, that it was hard to know who to trust. And worse even, would it be when they debuted. Poppy felt herself swell with affection towards June. Juniper Edevane was her truest, closest friend. Poppy wanted, so badly, to tell her about that evening. She’d almost done it too, a few weeks ago over Easter break when she’d had a dress fitting. She’d nearly told all to both June and Ida, actually. Whatever had made her hesitate then was still making her doubt now. Poppy tucked another iris into its place and reached for a stem of pretty, cascading little bluebells. She fluffed the flowers a little with her palm and clipped the base. It was then, and only then, that Juniper turned towards her fully and Poppy felt her face heat all over again.
She kept her gaze averted from June as she tucked the bluebell into its place with perhaps more dedication than it required. It was only when her friend mentioned taking care of it for her that Poppy finally turned her gaze onto the blonde. “No,” she said quickly. “I-I mean, thank you. I managed to handle it… alright on my own.” Her face felt warmer than even before and Poppy realized she was admitting her situation to June wether she wanted to or not. Wringing her hands together nervously, she let out a soft breath and decided to just tell June. The worst that could happen was a little judgement, she supposed. But June wouldn't abandon her, surely. “Do you remember… Kristoffer Lestrange?” She started, quietly.
© Fox