AUTHOR'S NOTE: wrote on a whim. Enjoy & Review!

FLOWERS

“What are those?”

Walter dumped the load of bags in his arms onto the kitchen floor. All except for one, the center of the resident vampire’s attention. She was like a cat, quiet and curious, with bright eyes under her raven-black hair. Without a sound, she had appeared behind him from nowhere, without warning, and, even more like a cat, began to wind herself every so subtly around him, inspecting every little nook and cranny. Her hair tickled his arm.

Separating the grocery sacks from the office supplies, Walter paused long enough to set the powder blue wax paper-wrapped bundle on the kitchen counter. Glancing at Alucard out of the corner of his eyes, he considered putting it somewhere higher, out of the reach of the vampire’s fidgety hands, at least for the moment. But at fourteen, he was much too short to reach the top of the cabinets. Besides, there wasn’t really any place she couldn’t reach if she really wanted.

“They’re flowers,” he said simply. “You know what flowers are, don’t you?”

She hopped onto the counter and sat next to the bouquet, running one finger carefully over one of the Champagne roses. “I know that. I meant why did you buy flowers of all things? Don’t tell me one of Arthur’s paid ‘companions’ actually demanded that he made some pretense at being gentlemanly.”

“They’re not for Arthur.” Grocery shopping was usually the kitchen staff’s job, but only Walter knew of certain things their master liked. Squatting on the floor, he began to remove bottles of vodka, whiskey, rum, and one particular brand of caviar. “And there’s no law against buying flowers.”

Her booted feet swung in the air carelessly. “Sure there is. The rule of machismo indicates that unless a man is buying flowers for a woman, usually to beg for sex or forgiveness, it diminishes their… what do you call it?”

“Masculinity?”

“Yea, that.”

Did he forget to get champagne crackers? No, there they are. Walter set the items on the kitchen counter, next to the flower bouquet. The roses, lavenders, lilies, and rosemary flowers filled the room with a faint sweet scent, which was made strangely more pleasant when intermingled with Alucard’s signature dusty cotton and gunpowder.

“Am I going to be lectured on masculinity by a male vampire in ankle boots?” He looked at the vampire’s head. “And I’m not even going to start on that hat.”

“What do you have against the hat?” She stretched and yawned. A cat. If she wasn’t a vampire, she’d be a cat. “Besides, when you’ve lived as long as I have and have done as much, the male-female ideals hardly apply anymore, especially for one with no permanent form.”

“What do you have against flowers?” Walter put a bottle of red wine in an ice bucket. He would fill it with ice later for Arthur’s meeting tonight. “If that’s true, then you should have some femininity in you and show some appreciation for things like flowers.”

“I have nothing against flowers.”

“Then why the third degree?”

“I merely wanted to know why you bought them.” She played with her hair, watching him put away the food items. There weren’t many. Most of the groceries wound up in the liquor cabinet.

“Or you could help me put away the groceries.”

“Are they for someone?”

He had bought various pens, pads, and two inkwells for Arthur’s office. They will need to be carried upstairs. He doubted the vampire wanted to help. “So what if they are?”

She smiled. Her fangs were just a bit unnerving, even after all this time he’s spent in her presence. Her red eyes sparkled, the way they tended to do when she thought of a particularly wicked and fun idea. “Who is it?” she purred.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because she’s a lucky girl.” Walter gathered up the pile of office supplies and began to head out of the kitchen. Alucard hopping off the counter and stood in his way, showing absolute disrespect for his personal space as usual. “Maybe you’re not so dull in the ways of men and women after all. And here I thought romance was murdered by technology in this era.”

Walter rolled his eyes. “Move.”

“Have you dreamed of the way you’d give it to her? Teenagers are still prone to such daydreams no matter the day and age, it seems.”

“Move. I need to get this upstairs.”

“Is it the young woman who comes around on weekends to clean the master’s office?”

He tried to squeeze past her, but there was very little room. He considered kicking her in the shin, but doubted it would faze her much. Besides, she may use it as an excuse to goad him into another one of those wrestling matches that usually resulted in her pinning him to the floor and drawing on his face with a green laundry marker. For someone so old, she sure never ran out of ways to entertain herself.

In the end, he settled on pushing her aside and making his way up the stairs. When he came back, she had pulled the cork out of the bottle of red wine and was pouring it into two glasses. Rushing forward, he snatched it out of her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting the mood.” Swirling one of the glasses like a true English lady, she sipped the red liquid, then grimaced. “This is terrible.”

“Well, it’s not for you.” Sighing, Walter raised the bottle to eye-level. It was a third empty.

“Water it down. He’ll never notice.” She set the glass down. “When you give a girl flowers, you must set the mood. You must utter sweet words and poetry, speak to her heart, feed her wine, so that she may feel the same intoxication of love you feel.”

“How do you know so much about this?”

She shrugged. “Just because it’s been a while since my last turn at romancing, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the old lessons. A real girl would want that delicate touch, that dim, comfortable, sensual feel of love. She’s treasure romance and act with grace.”

Walter chuckled. “You sound like you miss it.”

She fingered the bunches of baby’s breathes as if they fascinated her. “In that aspect, I think I am less feminine and more masculine. Those acts of romance are put on as a show for women. Flowers are part of that show. A more substantial display of affection.”

Stepping forward, Walter took the bouquet. “You’re right,” he said. “You make a terrible girl. Here.”

For the first time in their time together under the same roof, he saw surprise in those red eyes. Alucard looked at the flower bouquet in front of him, then gazed up at the boy.

“You asked who it’s for. It’s for you. Take it.”

She did, reaching up awkwardly and taking the bouquet. Walter smiled. “After all that time, all that experience, you still make a terrible girl, no matter what form you take. A real girl wouldn’t jabber on like that, or badger someone so impolitely.” He gestured at the wine bottle. “Or drink in the middle of the morning.”

She didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. Standing there, she looked down at the flowers, as if it was some alien, unearthly treasure. Or bomb. Finally, she asked, “what do I do with this?”

He walked past her. “Whatever you want.”

At the meeting that evening, whiskey was served all around. Later in that night, the master of the house ventured to the dungeons, and thought he saw a bouquet of flowers sticking out of a bottle that looked like it once held red wine.