13 Dec, '94 — Montague's House of Flowers, High Street

There was an urchin behind the counter of Montague's House of Flowers, balancing precariously with one hand on the ladder supporting her weight and the other gripping a wreath of holly and ivy. She looked just as festive, her fingers already pricked red by the holly's sharp leaves and her worn red cap dusted with snow from her last delivery, but she felt anything but.

"Deck the halls with bleedin' holly," Charley muttered under her breath while twisting the ivy into place, coming away with a finger even more brightly red. "Fa-la-la-la-ouch!"

She could have used a spell to set her wreath in place, only Mrs. Mann wouldn't hear of it. The shop manager wouldn't hear of a lot of things, including any grumbling about the bustle of decorating. "It's Yuletide, Charley," the urchin repeated the words back to herself, mocking them as she climbed down, "It means more when things are done by hand."

Charley couldn't tell if Mrs. Mann meant the one she was using to direct her wand to the tasks, or the bleeding one that had to be nursed on her way down. There was a customer over near the begonias, shooting her better warning looks than the flowers could manage. The urchin barely had a moment to blink, and a customer was on the way to the counter. It was time to put on the act again, the one she dreaded this time of year. A straight back, a plastered smile, cracking her chapped lips and the cold, black coal of her heart.

"Roses in December, eh?" she asked, looking at the newest bundle of work laid on her countertop. Under her breath, she added, "Yeah, go on then. Not like they're out of season or nothing."

The customer's roses wafted the delicious aroma of gingerbread, one of the shop's inventive creations for the season. Each one in the bouquet were picked by Mrs. Mann, all Charley had to do was cut and wrap them. A prickly proposition that did not make her more eager for the season's festivities. Her finger had stopped bleeding now, but she wrapped the bouquet gingerly anyway. For the last step, and most important, she grabbed a bottle of potion water to spritz the flowers so they would stay moist for weeks.

With a grin only she could see, the urchin grabbed the alkaline potion, the wrong one.

"Here ya are," she said, handing the bouquet back to the customer and taking their coin. It pained her less to see those thorny roses walk off, now that Charley had her own bite for the season. "An' a merry evenin' to you!"

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OOC: Open to any Christmas flower shopper. Based off of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" (417 words)

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Professor Knotwood was on an errand a little gift for his long-suffering wife, a slight error in judgement coming home smelling of the wrong perfume would be righted with these beautiful stems. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to enjoy the entertainment services available to a man such as he, but to return home smelling of her sweetness was disrespectful and he had had to fight for his rightful position in the bed chamber only being allowed in once he had promised to make it up to her.

"Roses in December, eh?" The young woman asked him, a girl who should probably be in school judging by her age, he wondered what her story might be, taking a few seconds before he answered with a slightly crooked smile and replied in his soft voice.

"Yes, they are my wife's favourite." he made what might pass as a friendly smile as he handed over the coins to pay for his penance. "You arent in my classes are you? Funny" he mused to himself as he carefully picked up the bouquet and checked that it would meet her standard when she returned home. They looked beautiful.

"And a merry evening to you young witch, I hope the season finds you hale and hearty."

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Charley Goode

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