 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
Freya looked up from her notes at the unexpected voice, one hand still holding her quill hostage from the vine's latest attempt at theft. The tendril, apparently encouraged by having gained an audience, became quite yare and bolder in its movement.
Only then did she properly register who had spoken.
She'd seen him around often enough to physically recognize him, though she wasn't sure they'd ever actually spoken. At the moment, he appeared as though he'd been personally adopted by the greenhouse itself. There was dirt on his cheek, dirt on his hands, and enough in his pockets to suggest as much.
Her gaze flicked from the tray of seedlings balanced in his arms back to the vine currently inching toward her textbook.
"It's plotting something." She was almost certain that plants could sense weakness. "I wouldn't be surprised if it knows I'm revising."
Freya glanced down at the page she'd been studying and suppressed a sigh. The diagram seemed even less cooperative now than it had five minutes ago. Closing the book and scooting it several inches to the side, she tilted her head toward the vine.
"What is it, anyway?" The question escaped before she could stop it. "Honestly, at this point I'd have better odds identifying a xeranthemum." Never mind the fact that the mentioned plant was what had been featured in the diagram.
The vine responded by curling lazily around the edge of her textbook, almost as though attempting to volunteer an answer. Freya stared at it.
"...See? Plotting."
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