dream ★ 008
There’s a few couches in the cozy, small room, facing one another. Seated on one is Oz, though the boy looks to be about thirteen, at oldest. His hair, a golden yellow in the warmth of the midday sun, is tousled, emanating his youth. On the opposing couch is an older man, with short blonde hair and a hardy grin. Between them, on a small coffee table of the Victorian type, is a bouquet of red roses.
“Ah…but I don’t see how flowers-” Oz begins, finger to his chin, but before he can finish, he is cut off by a deep laugh from the man across the way.
“Rule number one: the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through flowers.” To accent his point, the man picks up a single rose, twirls it about, gives it a lingering sniff, and then spares a glance over at Oz.
The boy doesn’t look too enthused. “That’s awfully unoriginal, Uncle.”
“You’ll learn the art of love eventually,” ‘Uncle’ Oscar reassures, setting the rose back down before laughing boomingly once more. “Rule Number Two, a charming smile steals a heart.”
“Steals…but that’s-”
“You always present the flower to her with a charming smile, and she’s as good as yours,” the man finishes and claps his hands onto his knees, leaning forward some to peer at Oz. “And with good looks like those, you’ll do fine.” An affectionate ruffling of his hair, another laugh, and the man is up and off his feet.
“But--! Is that really all?”
“All for today.” A wink and a pat on the shoulder. “Practice makes perfect-go work on your wooing.”
And before Oz knows it, it’s the next day and he’s staring down a rose-all the thorns removed by hand, earlier that morning. Missus Kate would have been horrible to test it out on, all the maids were far too old for him and would report any ‘ill’ behavior to his father, and his sister was too young to understand, so that left one logical person to practice on.
It didn’t make it any less awkward when he appeared out of nowhere beside his servant, like a predatory animal from the underbrush. The black-haired boy had been in the midst of rearranging some books in the spacious study, and all but dropped the books when red petals were shoved unceremoniously in his face.
He reacted in two ways-a sneeze and a start. “Y-young Master ,what-”
“Ah, Gil, you’re not supposed to sneeze, you’re supposed to be wooed.” A frown.
Another sneeze and the flower is purposely twirled under his nose. The servant boy tries to tilt his head away but to no avail, the flower follows at the hands of his young master. “E-excuse me Master but…but wooed?”
“Oi, Gil. Do I have to teach you what that word means?” Oz arches a brow, meaningfully, and twirls the flower again.
“N-no, of course not, I just…”
“…You’re also supposed to take it, you know?” Another twirl. When Gilbert blinks in confusion, obviously not understanding Oz’s attempts at practicing what his Uncle had taught him the day prior, all Oz can do is sigh extremely heavily, thrust the flower one last time at his servant, and turn his back sharply.
“You don’t make for a very good girl, Gil.”
A snigger and Oz departs from the room, a hum about cats and candy in the air in his leave.
[ Oz lets out a small laugh, though there's a teasing darkness to it as he sets the Dreamberry down, for once not all too concerned that it had broad-casted. ]