May 14th, 1892 - Potts Flower Show, Bartonburg

Cliff stared at the young wiggentree sapling in the corner, knowing full well it wasn’t within his budget, despite how much he wanted a new, magical piece of greenery to plant on the farm. This one was special - a wiggentree was said to give protection from dark creatures if the trunk was being touched. While he rarely came in contact with such creatures, it was something he found he wanted, just in case. He’d been circling it, staring at it with a wonder in his eyes that was hard to miss, while speculating how he could sneak it out of the show without anyone seeing.

(He couldn’t, he quickly realized. That was a damn shame.)

Shuffling over to it to stand in front of it, Cliff reached out to brush his fingers against one of the bright green sapling buds attached to a branch, before a pinch of a bowtruckle latched onto his pinky finger. He blinked down at it and it seemed to frown at him, as if he’d been the one harming it. Cliff furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Shit!” He squeaked as soon as the pain registered, flinging the tiny twig-like being flying across the flower show and directly onto a young woman. “Heads up!” Cliff grimaced as he shook his hand to lessen the sting. He hated bowtruckles and their constant need to be in magical trees. He'd step on it and squash it if given the chance, although he supposed other people around the show wouldn't appreciate that kind of violence toward an "innocent creature."

---

@"Daffodil Potts"

---

  

Today seemed to be going absolutely swimmingly and as the afternoon wore on away from the flower show and more toward the ceili, Daffy found herself getting a little more anxious. It had nothing to do with the exhibits of course, and everything to do with the arrangements she'd made with Elias for later. She was nervous to see what he would think about her little display that featured his creations, but only time would tell. It felt silly, of course he would like it, but maybe it was too forward of her to do? Honestly she didn't know. This whole thing, though not her first time having feelings for someone, was vastly different than how it had gone last time.

Running around in her new pink dress and her hair coming loose from its updo, Daffy was moving through the garden just neatening things up when she was nearly blinded by a... bowtruckle? being flung at her face. The warning that had preceded the landing hardly mattered as she creature was now clinging to her dress after falling from where it had originally connected with her face. It was quite dazed and Daff carefully scooped it into her hands. "Is she yours?" Daff inquired of the gentleman who had shouted, looking between the bowtruckle and the man curiously.

---

  

---

“Mine?” Cliff sputtered out, his mouth falling open before he promptly clamped it closed. He eyed the girl cautiously, wondering just how hard the tiny creature had hit her before he found his gaze lowering to the bowtruckle cupped in her hands. He glared at the stupid thing, his pinky finger still dully throbbing from where it had pinched him. He hadn’t done anything to it outside of touching the sapling bud, and it had no right to be protective over a tree that wasn't even rooted into the dirt. “If it was mine, it’d be underneath my shoe right now.” He ground the tip of his shoe into the ground for emphasis.

He hated bowtruckles. For being relatively peaceful creatures, they were certainly possessive over a tree he’d grown and they had decided to freeload in and live in. Cliff had to spend money he didn’t have for woodlice and fairy eggs to appease the thing so he could cut the tree down. “I assumed it was your guard dog, making sure people don’t touch your arrangements unless they were actually buying it.” He blew out a breath of air from between his lips. He shouldn’t be rude to her, but she looked like she was about to side with the creature. He glared at it again before he finally looked at the girl’s face.

---

@"Daffodil Potts"

---

  

Lost in making sure the bowtruckle was alright, Daff missed the quip about smushing it. Otherwise she might have smushed him, or at least kicked him out of the event. Fortunately the little dear didn't look injured, just dazed, so Daffy carefully tucked the wee darling into her pocket for a later check up.

"Oh no, we have so many quality plants on display, it's hard to tell just where they'll end up." Daffy chuckled. "Good sign of healthy flora, however. Was it on the wiggentree?" Daff would have it moved and set aside. Perhaps she would plant it here in the backyard for further cultivation. In another life she would have seen if Noble wanted it, as she knew it was used extensively in potions, but that was no longer something she had to think about, even if the notion came up unbidden at the most unexpected of times.

---

  

---

It took everything in Cliff not to roll his eyes as he watched her fawn over the bowtruckle, as if it was anything special. It had pinched him and the stupid thing was getting the special treatment. He stuck his tongue out at it for good measure as it was dropping into her pocket. Hopefully she’d clip its sharp twigs or tie the tiny monster’s limbs togethers to keep it from attacking someone else.

“I know. I deal with the stupid things every day of my life.” Cliff grunted, crossing his arms. Perhaps not every day, but enough times that magical creatures were a dead giveaway that the tree had some magical quality. “I own a tree farm. To make brooms and wands and shi-things.” As if he owed her any sort of explanation. She probably knew a lot more about plants and trees than he did, but he hated being shown up by anyone.

He glanced at the tree next to him and nodded. “Yeah. The wiggentree. Was considering buying it for the properties because my sister is an idiot who brings weird creatures home all the time. One day she’s gonna kill us.” Not that Clifford Hillicker had any money to spare. If he could stick it under his shirt and carry it out without being noticed, he would.

---

@"Daffodil Potts"

---

  

---

[Please feel free to hit Cliff at your leisure; he probably deserves it.]

Daff was busy making sure the little bowtruckle was comfy cozy, but she perked right up at the mention of a tree farm. A magical tree farm. "For brooms? How fascinating!" She had of course, been reading up on magical trees used in wand and broommaking. She wondered what she could learn from the gentleman before her!

"My friend—" Daff wasn't exactly sure how to describe her relationship with Mr. Grimstone where it stood, but she supposed for the purpose of this conversation, friend covered it. "Is a broommaker, he crashed into my pumpkin plants just over there while testing a prototype," She jerked her head in the direction to where her pride and joy stood. "Last year and I've been learning about them ever since."

Looking at the wiggentree, Daff had considered setting it aside, but if he wanted to purchase it, who was she to stop him. "I will sell you the wiggentree, at a discount. If you let me deliver it." Daffy was dying to see a real magical tree farm!

---

  

---

Cliff blinked. It wasn’t often that he was speechless, but then again it wasn’t often that someone thought his job was fascinating. If he blushed a bit, well, he minded his business. “Magical things. I don’t well, make them - “ He wasn’t smart enough for that, nor did he have a desire to. “I just… grow the wood.” Cliff felt the need to clarify, just in case she didn’t quite pick up on it.

His eyes were drawn toward where she nodded to, and Cliff nodded his head. “Sounds like a good time. I like to play quidditch, but I wouldn’t dream of using a broom that hadn’t been tested.” He laughed, albeit awkwardly. He absolutely would hop on a broom that wasn't tested to take it for a test ride. It’d always been a dream to be a professional, but it was something unachievable. (He had to live through Astorwood and Aldridge.)

Speaking of money, Cliff blinked again at the offer. “I uh…” He narrowed his eyes at her, assessing her. People weren’t nice to him. Which he deserved, because Cliff was not a nice person himself. She didn’t seem to have malicious intent from what he could see - he was very protective of his farm because it was his livelihood, and the only people invited over were people he trusted. “Ah. Yeah. If you really want to.” He just wished he wouldn’t live to regret it.

Stepping forward, he wiped his hands against his pants, dirt always seemed to be stuck to them, before he offered his hand to her. He didn’t try to smile. “Clifford Hillicker. It’s nice to meet you?” He didn’t mean to pose it as a question; he just wasn’t sure what to think of her.

---

@"Daffodil Potts"

---

  

---

[Please feel free to hit Cliff at your leisure; he probably deserves it.]

"Same goes for me, I'm a herbologist and a florist." Though Daff did grow magical plants, she didn't do much with them. It was the potioneers and the other careers that needed what she grew who did the more spectacular things with them. "Oh I don't fly, I leave that up to the professionals." After confessing that story to Mr. Grimstone, Daffy was still unsure as to whether or not she would ever sit on a broom again, but that was neither here nor there at this point in time.

Fortunately Mr. Hillicker seemed amenable to her offer and Daff clapped delightedly. "Daffodil Potts, pleasure to meet you Mr. Hillicker!" She took his hand and gave him an enthusiastic shake. "My family runs the local florist, this is our show." She used the hand she'd just shaken his with to gesture at the displays. "Would you mind terribly collecting some information from you so we can get that transaction settled?" She could hardly contain the excitement at the thought of being able to visit an actual magical tree farm!

---

  

---

“A Herbologist and a florist. You must have a lot of talents.” Clifford breathed out a laugh; the most he did with herbology was grow a vegetable garden because it was much cheaper than having to buy them - he saved money where he could. He didn't make a note about her broom habits because it wasn't if he actually cared if she flew on them or not. What happened to the wood after it left his farm wasn’t a worry to him. With money in hand, they could use it to burn London to the ground for all he cared.

He shook her hand and then wiped it on his pants again as she let go. Cliff never was a fan of touching other people when he could help it. “Well, it’s impressive. The show.” He mumbled. There were a few items he’d like, and if one or two disappeared up his sleeve on the way out, that was his business. Ms. Potts was quite excitable and it wasn’t something he was used to. He took a step back from her, cleared his throat and blinked at her.

“Uh… I guess?” He wasn’t sure if she’d pick her bags to move in when she visited and the thought sounded terrible. “Payment and address, I’m assuming? I’m at home most of the time, and if I’m not, my brother is -” and his sister, but she was still a child and would probably pester Ms. Potts endlessly about everything. “Although I guess I should be home if you want a tour…” Nervous. Cliff was nervous about having someone visit his home and he wasn’t sure why.

---

@"Daffodil Potts"

---

  

---

[Please feel free to hit Cliff at your leisure; he probably deserves it.]

"It keeps me busy," Daff loved to be busy. She was pretty bad about sitting still and having too much time on her hands, especially these days, so she did what she could to keep herself occupied. "Thank you. My mother wanted something much more extravagant, I managed to tone it down a little bit." If Laurel had gotten her way it would have been so much extra.

She motioned for Mr. Hillicker to follow her back into a nearby tent where she was keeping some of her supplies and a ledger to record the day's sales. "Just an address for now, we can settle up in payment when I deliver the tree." She managed to find a quill to record the information. "Oh and of course a delivery date, whenever is good for you." Daff could make just about any time work. Looking up at him expectantly, she didn't even think about the bowtruckle making its way into her hair with the flowers that dotted her updo. She entirely missed as the sassy little creature stuck its tongue out at Mr. Hillicker as it made its home in her braid.

---

  

---

Cliff nodded. He knew all about keeping busy; between trying to keep the farm in the green (which was becoming easier and easier as more years ticked by), be a parent to two brats he’d taken to calling his kids (which earned him odd looks because at twenty three it was damn near impossible for him to have a fifteen year old, but it was easier than trying to explain his mum had saddled him with two siblings when she’d abruptly left) and having a social life, Clifford wasn’t sure what downtime was. And when he did have down time… he filled it with sticky fingers. Or drinking. Or both.

Following Miss Potts, he let out a shaky breath as he filled out his information. “Monday? I mean, I’m pretty home during the week days.” He’d have to ask Imane if he could send Meena over for a few hours for her to watch, or well… just drop her off and tell his little sister not to be a terror so she wouldn’t pester Miss Potts about who she was and whether she was here to date her brother. Cliff glanced up at her and offered her a smile before he narrowed his eyes at the bowtruckle and mimicked it, sticking his tongue out at it.

“And please don’t bring that thing. They’re awfully hard to get rid of when it comes to trees.” And I just might step on it by “accident” if it comes to my farm.

---

@"Daffodil Potts"

---

  

---

[Please feel free to hit Cliff at your leisure; he probably deserves it.]

"Monday it is then," Daff agreed. She might still be absolutely knackered from this whole thing, but she could probably still make it work. As she collected the parchment from him, she made a quick note of her own in the top corner about what and when and then tucked it away safely.

Daff wasn't sure why having bowtruckles on a magic tree farm would be a bad thing, but then again it appeared Mr. Hillicker was not a fan regardless. "I will make sure to leave Twiggy at home," Not that Daff was even sure she was going to be the bowtrucke's permanent home, but why not at least until she was well enough to move on. [b]"I'll see you Monday afternoon then, Mr. Hillicker, thank you for your business!" She added cheerily.

---

  

---