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Flynn Wright ([info]oh_rats) wrote in [info]valesco,
Flynn couldn’t help but smirk at the look on her face as she examined the empty spots in the ‘Mattie Scarpin’ display. It only confirmed his assumptions; that she actually cared about what she created, and wasn’t in it for the money. He could understand how the latter was certainly a perk, since he too sold his craft for a few galleons, but drawing had always been his passion. It made him happy, and that was more important than wealth. When she finally plucked out an album, explaining her reasoning behind it, Flynn gave a nod to show he understood. He allowed her to step passed him in order to get to the register, though as she brushed by, he caught a whiff of her perfume.

It was so unbelievably familiar… He had heard once that scent was the strongest link to memories – the scent of apple pie would always remind him of Christmases at his Grandmother’s house – but he could not for the life of him place his finger on what the scent of her reminded him of. It wasn’t like he could stand there and sniff her until it came to him. He was known for being a bit…well, odd, but he wasn’t that odd. He just marched to his own drum.

Stepping behind the counter, he worked on ringing her up. He noticed that she had seen the last drawing in his sketchbook, but it wasn’t until he looked up to tell her the price did he realize that she seemed to be avoiding eye contact. When she forced her smile, he noticed the dimples that appeared on either side of her lips, and-

Suddenly it clicked. Those dimples, her eyes, the perfume, the fact that she was acting so strange after seeing that picture of the woman in the mask; was this really the girl he had spent so much time wondering about? Was this the girl whom he had kissed so passionately on New Years? He knew it was all a spell, he wasn’t daft, or delusional, but he had never felt such a magnetic pull towards another person before. He could still remember how he felt as though there were something hooked behind his naval, pulling him towards her, not even knowing who she was.

“…11 sickles with the discount.”

He wanted so desperately to be able to say something - anything else, but words were escaping him. How did one bring something like that up? He certainly couldn’t outright ask her if she was who he had thoroughly snogged that night. Well, he could have, but he wouldn’t. His lips rolled under, hands resting against the counter, as she sorted through her purse for the coins. A breath was taken and his mouth opened as though preparing to speak, but before his voice could escape, the jingling of the shop door stole his attention.


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