Bloom

“You’re late.”

Ginger ducked under the dripping awning of the noodle shop and dropped without ceremony onto a stool beside the vendor’s only customer.

“Had to lose a tail.”

The handsome blonde gentleman beside her smirked darkly and sipped from his bowl of ramen. They were an odd pair, her in her soaked denim and leather bomber jacket, and him in a spotless dark blue suit beneath a trench coat but in the middle of the night in the depths of the city only the two took note of the other.

“And you remember where you left them?”

“Naturally.” Ginger swiped a hand through her sopping hair and motioned with two fingers to the elderly Asian gentleman who worked at one end of the open kitchen stove. “Slick isn’t causing you any trouble, is he, Pa?”

“I told you not to call me that,” the man beside her growled into his noodles. The lantern light accentuated the scar that carved a path across his chin and down his neck, making his generally alluring visage seem particularly savage.

“He always trouble!” Pa carried over a steaming plate of fresh bean buns to set before Ginger. “But not for me,” he added with a chuckle. The old man fondly patted her hand be for taking up an old plastic tub full of porcelain bowls and stepping away behind a curtain.

The pair settled more comfortably on their stools and leaned against the high counter as they ate. Rain pattered on the canvas and concrete behind them, and the din of Seattle at midnight echoed past the tall towers and old fifth world buildings, but it was a distant sort of sound that made the noodle shop feel untouched.

Finally, after polishing off the last few chives, the man called ‘Slick’ sat up with a contented sigh and dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Pa never disappoints.”

Ginger hummed around a bite as she inhaled the sweet steam that rose from a freshly torn open bun. “Do you ever miss the Germanic meals?”

Slick scoffed, his golden gaze narrowing in a serpentine glare. “If I never have to eat another kuchen it will be too soon.” From within his coat two magazines were retrieved, and he offered them over to the young woman.

Eyes widening briefly in recognition, Ginger shoved the rest of the bun she’d been eating into her mouth and wiped her hands clean on her thighs before accepting the reading material. “George is fast, though I never took you for an errand boy.”

“I run my own errands.” Slick stole one of the bean buns. “What is the gardening magazine for?”

Ginger’s nose crinkled at the petty theft, but a glance at his hand and the golden bracelet that peeked out from beneath the man’s suit cuff made her think twice about slapping his hand.

“Not much. I have a plot of land I’m tending. Seeds and all that.”

The pair exchanged a private, humored look. Gin then flipped through the color pages of 2084 gardening trends, celebrity botanists, and gimmicky floral horoscopes.

Slick half turned to relax against the counter so he could watch the human as well as the street behind them. “Grey Bear wants me to remind you that it’s not too late to call the whole thing off.”

Scowling, Ginger shot him a look. “After everything we’ve worked for? Tell the old man he’s gone soft.”

“You tell him yourself.”

Ginger pursed her lips with a firm determination against what she knew was a kind offer, and turned the first magazine over only to finally take notice of the second. “Weeds are in my garden, and I’ve already begun ripping them up…. This yours?” She held up the newest issue of ‘Octane’ with it’s flashy combat racing cover.

Slick gave an innocent shrug, but didn’t bother concealing an opportunistic smile. “There is an expo on the Peninsula this weekend.”

“My bike is a junk heap, you old snake, remember?”

He leaned towards her, head ticking to one side. “They have the new Suzuki Mirage.”

Ginger’s brows rose. She licked her lips. “…So?”

“And it’s the perfect opportunity for when your… flowers bloom?”

A look of full realization passed over her face followed by a slow-growing grin. “And here I thought you wanted to watch all us mortals burn,” she mused, reaching to playfully chuck the dashing man’s scarred chin.

His pupils narrowed into vertical slits, but his smile remained as he raised his own hand to deliver a reprimanding flick to the center of Ginger’s brow. “Not all mortals. And I’ve grown fond of watching you do it for me.”

Ginger winced, making an amused huff, and shook her head once in protest. She stood, pulling several damp bills from her pocket to leave on the counter. The magazines disappeared within her jacket. “I’ve never done anything for you, Slick.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to,” he responded with ease as he too rose from his seat. He offered her his umbrella and Gin waved him off. “Though, keep calling me ‘Slick’ and I’ll have to kill you when this is all over.”

Her blue eyes glinted in the lantern light as she winked back at him and stepped back out into the rain. “Heal up for a few more decades, then maybe it’ll be a fair fight.”