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[mansuetus]

Character: Lucrezia Borgia (» 010 » 080).
Canon: The Borgias.
For: Ataraxion

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[handelaar]

The gardens? They're not very private. I can - she'll like the rest. I think.

[mansuetus]

There are some hidden places even in the gardens, and it is the only place on the ship with an aroma of romance.

[ a beat. ]

Will you tell me the name of this fortunate woman?

[handelaar]

Don't know how...

[That pessimistic thought trails off when he realizes that this entire conversation is doubly embarrassing. He has to attempt to say her name, to Lucrezia Borgia, great.]

Her name's - Heather. [Except it sounds like Hederj when he says it.] Can't pronounce it right. It's... she works in the Gardens too, you've prob'ly seen her.

[mansuetus]

Then I will help you search. But we must do in secret! If she works in the gardens, she cannot know our aim.

[handelaar]

Search. [Lu are you going to spy on them he's a little suspicious now.] Ah, yeah. Can just give her a job to do on the first level while we look.

[mansuetus]

[ she spied on her brother having sex, what makes you so different? ]

I think I will enjoy this scheme. When will we search?

[handelaar]

[Her brother isn't an exhibitionist? Or doesn't have a weird thing for his own sibling? Maybe?]

Before my tulips bloom. [Informative.] This week. Not too early, don't like mornings.

[mansuetus]

Tulips! Will I win a flower for my sweetness?

[ lucrezia, please. ]

[handelaar]

Can't be one of the tulips. They're red.

[mansuetus]

And?

[handelaar]

So they're not for you.

[About .02 seconds after he says that he 1) feels bad and 2) recalls that floriography was a Victorian thing and that Lucrezia is decidedly not a Victorian thing.

And then he thinks that Lucrezia would probably love floriography.]

Ah. There was a - practice. Called floriography. Assign meanings to flowers instead of saying shit out loud. Red tulips - [breathe man] - declaration of love.

Could give ya something different though.

[mansuetus]

[ Oh well but this is really interesting! ]

What do white say? And yellow?

[handelaar]

White isn't used much. That way, I mean. Yellow means hopeless love.

[mansuetus]

Never yellow, then! What of pink?

[handelaar]

[Oops, he snorts while trying not to laugh. Never yellow, she says, too fucking optimistic but it's endearing all the same.]

Pink doesn't mean a damn thing. Wouldn't matter anyway, only tulips on the ship are the red ones.

[mansuetus]

Then you must find another flower to give me, as red tulips are only for the lady you love.

[ a hum ]

And what does a lady give to the one she loves?

[handelaar]

I'll try.

[Finding flowers is easy. The giving part... not so much.]

There's - a lot. Depends on what kinda love.

[From someone else that'd probably be prying, but nope. Just flower talk from this guy.]

[mansuetus]

Let us say there is a lady and she loves another, all romance and charm. What will she do to show it?

[handelaar]

So uh. In love. With someone.

[Yeah he's pedantic like that.]

[mansuetus]

...Yes. In love, with someone.

[handelaar]

Here? Roses, might be easiest. Red.

[mansuetus]

A woman cannot give roses! Unless it is to another woman!

[handelaar]

[Wat.]

Why not.

[mansuetus]

Because no man receives roses. It is...simply not a gift given to men. No ambassador or visitor has ever given my father roses.

[handelaar]

Don't see a problem. 'cept France likes 'em. [Sigh.] Howbout - chrysanthemums.