[Giovanni steps back a moment to admire the finished arrangement he'd been working on, seems satisfied, looks away only when Julius' words slice smoothly through the silence of the room.]

Oh?

[Mild curiosity, and he'll step around the counter then, move closer in order to catch a glimpse of the order in the other man's hand. Softly, he laughs.]

You'd think they'd pay a little more attention to which flowers best compliment each other. But if that's what they want...

Well. Whatever the case, I'm sure we can make it work.

[The question comes, and he tilts his head just slightly as he thinks it over.]

Honestly I have a soft spot for Oxeye daises, simple as they may be. But my favourites, I'll admit, are lilies. Lilium candidum, in particular.

Did you?

[He looks up then, mild interest written in his face.]

And I suppose they are, yes. Perhaps it's the purity of them that I like.

Yes. I would agree with that. It's what makes them so pleasant to be around.

[More pleasant than most people at any rate, and there's something calming about them, something that settles something in him. This choice of career, modest as it may be-- it suits him.

He listens with that continued mild interest as the other man talks, smiles vaguely, though he offers no such insights about himself. His own upbringing isn't something he likes to dwell on too deeply, and these days it barely matters-- he's left it behind him, after all, and managed to make something of himself regardless.]

That sounds lovely, if I'm honest. Lucky you.

[And for him, at least, things are better in this reality. No death matches and no experiments and no massacre of all his siblings, no slow slipping away of his memories thanks to the strain placed on his body by all the things Angelika had done to him. Only neglect, and a place without beauty.

But none of that matters much, now. He's taken himself away from all that, and perhaps the life of a florist seems a modest one to some, but it makes him happy. He's content. He's surrounded by something he loves and as such, he has no complaints.

Quietly, he says.]

It must have been quite the sight.

[But other than that he's content to lapse into silence until his coworker has more he'd like to say.]

[it's a response that has him laughing softly, a quiet and amicable sound.]

Close enough.

[Just a small corner of the world perhaps, this little place, but it's enough for him.]

It might?

[And Giovanni's eyes go to the window then, looking out at the greying sky beyond the glass, and slowly he nods.]

Perhaps that's an idea.

[And he comes out from behind the counter. Begins to cross the room to the shop door.]