These Daffodils, I Hate Them
Never, ever, ever send Death the Kid flowers. It should come as a surprise to no one that it was a bad idea, but Maka Albarn learned that the hard way.
Maka, intending to thank Kid for signing a book out for her (a tome which she wasn't allowed as a One Star, which he easily achieved with his gold-plated library card), decided to send him a special bouquet of yellow daffodils as a thank-you. She thought the bright color would look good in his house, and lend the atmosphere a bit of much needed cheer.
So she was a bit surprised when a grumpy Liz accosted her the next day at school, suspiciously alone. "Just what did you think you were doing?" she demanded.
"What do you mean?"
"You sent him flowers," Liz growled, taking a couple menacing steps forward.
Maka blushed as she stumbled backward, suddenly realizing how her action might be construed. "It was a thank-you, nothing personal! I mean, not a sign I like him... I mean, like him, like him... he's a good friend..." She was aware that she was babbling, but for some reason her brain couldn't catch up to her mouth.
Liz huffed, rolling her eyes. "I know that. But did you forget what my very dear, demented technician's obsession is?"
"Of course not. I made sure there were eight flowers." She'd given the other four that came with the bouquet to Soul, since it hadn't seemed right to keep them for herself.
Liz made tsking sounds, shaking her head. "Good attempt, but still not the right idea. Ever look at a daffodil closely?"
"They're pretty symmetrical, aren't they?" Truth was, Maka hadn't given it that much thought and couldn't understand why Liz was so irate.
"Pretty is the operative word there, Maka. They're not perfectly symmetrical, and Kid spent all of last night making adjustments to each individual petal, stem and leaf. Using a microscope for accuracy."
Maka winced. "I'm sorry."
"And that's not the worst of it," Liz said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Did you know what one of his favorite hobbies is?"
Maka shook her head, unable to think of anything polite to say. Pointing out that Kid was an obsessive-compulsive organizer in serious need of medication wouldn't win her any points.
"Ikebana. Death the Kid doing Ikebana," Liz said softly. "Do I need to make the situation any clearer?"
"Oh... dear," Maka said faintly. The image of the perfectionist Kid working on an Ikebana arrangement was really cute in a way, but it didn't take a genius to figure out how many ways it could be bad. "When will he be coming back to school?"
"Next month, if we're lucky."