Chapter 2
Nokia stomped through the quiet streets, scowling. She had been promised action, a real investigation. Instead, she wandered empty roads, searching for anything—anything besides loitering teens huddled in alleyways, their breath curling in the cold air, or drunkards shuffling home to miserable wives, trapped in miserable lives. It was a familiar cycle, one she had no interest in watching play out yet again.
She rolled her shoulders, the weight of boredom pressing down harder than the thick fur of her coat. The air was heavy, dense, a stillness that felt unnatural. It wrapped around her like a second skin, thick enough to smother sound. She should’ve at least heard something—distant tires against asphalt, a muttered conversation from an open window, the city’s usual midnight breath. But there was nothing. Just silence, deep and endless.
"Geez, couldn’t he be more specific?" Nokia muttered under her breath, kicking a stray pebble down the road. She loved Moss, really. But her feline boss could be infuriatingly vague.
"Follow the scent of something out of place," he had told her, stretching luxuriously atop his desk, tail flicking with lazy amusement. That had been hours ago. Out of place. That could mean anything. A misplaced footprint, a whisper where there should be none, a shift in the air too subtle to name. Usually, she and her partner would joke about it, turning Moss’s cryptic orders into a game. But tonight? Alone in the biting cold, it was just annoying.
She sighed and yanked her hood up. The wind had sharpened, slicing through her coat, sending icy fingers racing down her spine. Her cheeks burned where the cold had bitten deep, her lips chapped, her fingers curled tightly into her pockets. A wary glance at the sky confirmed her suspicions—the clouds swirled in angry, shifting masses, dark and restless, pregnant with a storm that had yet to break. The air carried the sharp, metallic tang of impending rain.
The city was quiet. Too quiet.
For this time of night, there should’ve been at least some sign of life. A distant engine growling to life. The flicker of a cigarette ember in some forgotten alley. A dog barking, a train’s muffled rumble, anything. But there was nothing. The silence pressed against her ears, against her ribs, tightening, coiling, whispering of something just beyond reach.
Her hand drifted beneath her coat, fingers brushing the hilt of her knife. A habit, more than anything. She wasn’t scared. Not yet. But something was off. A wrongness that settled into her bones, waiting.
Moss’s words echoed again, curling around her thoughts.
Follow the scent of something out of place.
She exhaled sharply, watching her breath coil in the cold air. “Yeah, sure. Just tell me where to start, boss.”
And then, as if in answer, the wind shifted.
A new scent slithered into the air, threading through the damp chill, curling at the edges of her senses like smoke. It was faint, but distinct.
Blood.
Nokia stopped, boots grinding against the pavement. Shadows stretched, curling at her feet like hungry things. The metallic taste of blood pooled heavy in her mouth—not hers, not yet.
The air tensed.
She shifted onto the balls of her feet, grip tightening on the edges of her hood. The silence stretched, thick and expectant. A single breath—cold, sharp, and thin—escaped her lips.
Overhead, the clouds grumbled, swollen bellies heavy with unshed fury. The scent was stronger now, curling around her like an unseen tether. She swallowed hard. Her pulse quickened, but her stance remained steady. Every instinct screamed at her to move—to run, to hide—but she held her ground.
Then, the world shuddered.
A deep, splintering crack tore through the quiet.
The pavement ruptured beneath her feet.
With a deafening roar, the earth split open, spewing concrete and dirt into the air. Nokia barely had time to leap back as something shot upward, tearing through the street like a spear.
A stalk, thick as a tree trunk, spiraled skyward. Its surface gleamed, slick with something like gold, like sap, like blood. It twisted as it grew, impossibly fast, vines slithering outward in frantic, grasping tendrils. Petals—large as outstretched hands, shimmering like spun metal—unfurled beneath the moonlight. The air hummed, vibrating through her ribs, through her skull.
And then, the sky wailed.
The storm broke, fury spilling onto the earth in sheets of silver rain.
The plant convulsed, writhing, reaching—searching for something unseen. Thunder cracked overhead, splitting the night wide open. Nokia barely registered the wetness seeping into her clothes, the way her vision blurred at the edges. She had already moved—already gone.
All that remained was a burst of color—petals, light, something unnameable.
And the words, lingering in the storm-choked air, glowing faintly before fading into nothing: Across The Wallowing Sea.
In a blink, Nokia stood atop the building, her earlier playfulness erased. Cold eyes scanned the scene below. Rain lashed the earth, a furious downpour that blurred the streets into a smear of shadow and light. A massive stalk coiled around the structure, golden petals trembling as if whispering secrets to the storm. Thunder rolled through the sky, a deep, resonant growl that rattled the rooftops and sent shivers down her spine. Her mouth tightened into an uneasy frown.
The wind howled past her, tugging at her coat as she crouched low, eyes narrowing. The scent of crushed greenery and something sickly-sweet—like overripe fruit left too long in the sun—curled in the damp air. The plant pulsed, its thick vines twitching with something like anticipation. It was alive, not just in the way all things grew, but in a way that suggested hunger.
Nokia watched carefully from her vantage point. “Heh. So this is the ‘strange thing’ Moss was talking about, huh?”
The plant answered with a violent slam against the building, a vine cracking into the rooftop mere feet from where she stood. The force sent debris flying, shingles and concrete dust spiraling into the storm. But in a flash, Nokia was gone.
Reappearing on the bottom floor, she twisted away as the raging sunflower lashed out. The ground beneath her trembled with the impact, cracks spider-webbing across the pavement. It didn’t matter—vines exploded from shattered windows, writhing through the air like grasping fingers. A daffodil snapped around her ankle, its petals curling tight like a noose.
Nokia stumbled, boots splashing through puddles as rain hammered down, soaking through her coat. Smirking, she yanked a knife from her boot. Blade flashing, she slashed through every plant that surged toward her—though some resisted, untouched by her steel, as if rejecting the very concept of being cut.
Slipping outside, she searched for the perpetrator, but the storm blinded her. Wind screamed between the buildings, carrying the scent of ozone and damp earth. The sky roared, its fury an unrelenting cacophony. Lightning speared down, illuminating the chaos for a heartbeat. And in that flicker of light, she saw it—the moon high above, its pale glow bathing the sunflower in silver radiance, and a figure seated atop its golden petals, as if upon a throne.
They sat with an air of leisure, legs crossed, one arm draped over a bent knee. The storm raged around them, yet they remained untouched, dry as if reality itself bent to their whim. She couldn’t see their face, but she was sure they were smirking, finding glee in this destruction—this mindless power. The storm bowed to them. The flower worshiped them. And they, like a god lounging above mortal ruin, basked in it.
Honestly? She didn’t blame them. She would too. However, they had caused problems in her territory.
From where she stood, vision blurred by rain, she could only stare, her grip on the knife tightening.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the figure lifted a hand.
The sunflower trembled. A ripple passed through its massive form, and suddenly, the vines surged again, twisting toward Nokia like striking serpents. She leaped back, landing in a crouch as tendrils slammed into the spot where she had stood. Water splashed upward, mixing with the golden sap that bled from the plant’s wounds.
Lightning flashed once more, illuminating the figure’s silhouette—a cloak billowing in the wind, the gleam of something sharp at their side.
Nokia exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders.
“Alright,” she muttered, twirling her knife. “Let’s dance.”
The figure leaned forward, elbows resting on their knees, head tilted in lazy amusement. Even through the storm, even with the thunder swallowing sound, Nokia felt their gaze settle on her, heavy and expectant.
A golden petal drifted down, caught in the wind before landing soundlessly in a puddle at her feet. The moment it touched water, the ground trembled. More vines shot out, weaving through the streets like living veins, pulsing with a strange, golden light. Buildings groaned, roots burrowing deep beneath their foundations.
Nokia exhaled slowly. “Tch. You’re making a mess,” she muttered, flexing her fingers around her knife. “That means cleanup duty for me.”
The figure’s response was subtle—a shift, a smirk barely visible through the storm’s veil. Then, without warning, the sunflower lurched. The petals flared outward, glowing brighter, and a low hum filled the air, vibrating in Nokia’s bones.
She moved just as the vines struck, twisting through the downpour, her coat whipping around her like a shadow. The first strike missed. The second? Not so much.
Nokia flickered out of existence just as pain exploded in her thigh. She reappeared, breath hitching as warm blood ran down her leg. The sting was sharp, hot, a cruel reminder that she wasn’t untouchable. Before she could recover, the vines lunged again. Startled, she tried to teleport away—but the moment she reappeared, they were already on her.
Tendrils lashed around her like iron chains, tightening, crushing. The pressure built in her chest, her vision blurring at the edges. She thrashed, fingers clawing at the vines, but they only squeezed harder, forcing the air from her lungs.
Then—a deafening bang shattered the night. The force of it sent shockwaves through the storm, rain trembling in midair for just a breath. The plant writhed violently, golden sap spilling from the brand-new hole in its stem. The vines around Nokia loosened, and she hit the ground in a graceless heap, coughing, gasping.
Boots clicked against the pavement, slow and deliberate. A figure emerged from the shadows, smoke curling from the muzzle of a gun. Tension thickened in the air, crackling like static before a lightning strike. Nokia turned to face the newcomer…and froze.
Her breath caught, her jaw slack.
"Oh God…" she whispered, staring blankly at the figure.
She—Nokia hoped they were a she—was beautiful. No, that word wasn’t enough. Magnificent. Ethereal. Dangerous. Long black curls cascaded down her shoulders like silk woven from night itself. Her dark eyes, framed by lashes thick enough to steal souls, stared coldly down the barrel of her gun, a crazed glint hidden behind the smoking muzzle. Everything about her was divine. Beautiful. No—beyond beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. Nokia struggled to find a word worthy enough.
‘Did I die? Did that weird plant kid kill me? Is this an angel coming to take me to heaven? I don’t think I would go to heaven…maybe it's a demon? If so, I sure hope it's the one in charge of torturing me.’
Nokia would have gotten down on her knees and worshiped this divine figure—if not for the searing pain in her thigh.
She continued staring, face slowly heating as the goddess blinked. Once. Twice.
Then—pain. A sharp, brutal force slammed into her ribs. Nokia barely had time to register the movement before she was airborne, the world spinning. Wind rushed past her ears before she crashed hard into the nearest wall, the impact rattling her bones. The air fled from her lungs in a harsh wheeze, leaving her gasping, dazed.
Before she could catch her breath, Nokia was yanked into the air. A vine coiled tight around her legs, cutting off circulation. Then—wham. She was slammed into a golden petal.
"Ah geez, no need to be so rough—” Her voice trailed off as she took in the figure in front of her. Brown skin, short black hair, deep black eyes. Nokia’s face lit up. “Oh my God. You’re just a wittle baby.” She cooed.
The trespasser stared. “…Um. No?”
A thud. Then, the woman from before was thrown onto the petal beside them. Nokia’s face burned. Whoops. Messed up.
"Can you guys please stop killing my plants?” the kid whined.
Nokia blinked. “HUH?? You attacked first!”
"Because you killed half the plants in this godforsaken city!"
"Nuh uh."
"Yuh huh."
A gun muzzle jammed between them.
"Both of you," the woman deadpanned, "are under arrest for domestic terrorism, assault, drug distribution, aiding and abetting—"
"Okay, what?" Sebastian frowned. “I did not do all that.”
"I did!" Nokia beamed. "By the way, who are you?"
The woman blinked, then slowly pulled out a badge and brandished it…upside down.
"Ria Merasu. Armed Detective Agency. We deal with violent, supernatural, and generally insane crimes—like this mess."
Nokia stared. “That badge is upside down.”
Ria didn’t even glance at it. “You’re under arrest. Shut up.”
Nokia grinned. “Nokia Lidia.” She held out a hand. No one took it.
"Uhh…Sebastian Orchids," the plant kid mumbled, looking very confused.
"Your name is stupid," Ria said.
Sebastian blinked. "Wha—"
"Not you. Lidia."
"Huh? My name is VERY not stupid, Pretty Girl," Nokia said with a smirk.
Sebastian sighed. "Okay, I’m leaving. You two have fun with your lovers’ quarrel." He turned to walk away.
"Stay," Ria ordered, her gun rising slightly.
Sebastian stopped immediately. "Stayyying."
"Sebastian Orchids. What is your ability?" Ria asked, voice sharp.
"Hey, don’t be mean to my dearest Sebbykins, you heartless goddess." Nokia gasped, clutching her chest.
Neither of them paid her any attention.
"My ability is From A Restless Rain. I can basically do plant stuff. Yeah," Sebastian said.
Ria suddenly smiled. "That’s cool. What’s your favorite vegetable?"
Nokia turned red at the sight of her smile.
"Apples," Sebastian said without hesitation.
Nokia nodded in agreement. "Apples are one of the few vegetables I’ll eat."
Ria nodded seriously. "That’s true on so many levels."
Silence settled over them, stretching uncomfortably long. The rain had lightened to a mist, but the scent of damp earth and crushed petals clung to the air. For five excruciating minutes, no one spoke.
Sebastian finally broke the quiet, voice soft and hopeful. "Can I go home now?"
Ria sighed, running a hand down her face. "Okay, sure. I need coffee. Should’ve accepted Liz’s offer..." Regret laced her tone, heavy and tired.
Already, she missed the taste. The rich bitterness coating her tongue, the dark aroma curling through the air like a slow-moving serpent. She could almost see it—milk swirling into the depths, excess liquid slipping over the edges, cascading over the printed kittens on her favorite mug.
She was lost in the fantasy when—
"Uhh… H-hey, Miss... Can I go home with you—uh, my motorcycle?"
Nokia’s voice wavered. Her face flushed a deep, searing red.
Ria looked up. She stared, dark eyes unreadable. Then, without hesitation, she pulled out her gun.
Then she fired.
The bullet struck the ground near Nokia’s foot with a sharp, echoing crack. The sound ripped through the night, louder than it had any right to be. Nokia yelped, leaping back like a startled cat, arms flailing.
Ria didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.
"Nokia Lidia," she mused, voice steady, contemplative. "The true form of the Burning Shadow?"
Silence.
Nokia’s lips parted—maybe to answer, maybe to lie—but before a single sound could escape, she was gone.
Ria blinked. By the time her eyes opened again, the space where Nokia had stood was empty. The plant kid, too, had vanished. Only the remnants of golden sap and the ghost of a fight remained.
She exhaled, holstering her weapon. The city stretched out before her, quiet, endless. Rain wept softly above her, a whisper against the broken pavement.
And just like that, the night swallowed her whole.
—
Nokia shifted in bed, restless. Sleep hovered just out of reach, taunting her with the promise of peace it refused to give.
Dark hair. Red lips. A beautiful, sharp-edged smile.
The images flickered through her mind, refusing to fade.
She didn’t know when it happened. Didn’t know why. But her thoughts were no longer her own. Neither was her body.
If Ria asked, she would gladly throw herself into the fire.
They had met for minutes—just minutes. In that time, Ria had shot at her twice (missed, of course) and tried to arrest her. And yet…
When had her heart begun to race? When had her face begun to burn?
When had the little maggots burrowed into her soul suddenly bloomed into butterflies?
Nokia really had to give it to her. Ria knew how to charm, that bastard. With nothing but a gun, a deadpan glare, and a complete lack of patience, she had somehow wormed her way into Nokia’s head. Now, Nokia was falling head over heels for a woman she had known for less than an hour.
It was ridiculous. Completely absurd. And yet, as she lay in bed, the thought of Ria’s sharp eyes and effortless confidence wrapped around her like a warm, inescapable fog.
Nokia fell asleep to dreams of beauty and grace—of smoke curling from a gun barrel, of dark curls cascading over sharp shoulders, of a voice like steady thunder.
She was doomed.
——
Nokia awoke to a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. A groggy frown crossed her face as she cracked one eye open, her sleep-addled mind struggling to piece together reality.
Something warm. Soft. Breathing.
Her fingers twitched, reaching up instinctively, brushing against thick fur.
“…Moss…” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
A low purr rumbled in response, the vibration settling deep in her ribs as the weight shifted slightly in her arms.
“Moss… get off…” she whispered, barely conscious.
Then her brain finally caught up.
Moss wasn’t just a cat.
Moss was her boss.
Nokia shot upright so fast the cat nearly tumbled off her.
“Moss! Hey, morning! How are you?” she blurted, suddenly wide awake.
The cat twisted mid-air, landing gracefully on his paws before flicking his tail in mild annoyance.
“Nokia, hello,” Moss greeted, voice rich with a thick Scottish accent. “It’s afternoon, actually. And I’m doin’ quite well. How about you?”
“Oh, I’m doing… wait, did you say afternoon?” Nokia yelped, voice rising an octave.
Moss nodded, sitting back on his haunches with a flick of his tail. “Aye. I called you for a meeting. You never replied.” His golden eyes narrowed slightly. “No one else was here to wake you.”
Nokia winced, bowing her head in embarrassment. “Sorry.”
Then her brow furrowed. “Wait, what do you mean ‘no one else’? There’s always someone at base.”
“Yes, but everyone is busy,” Moss said simply, starting to groom his paw.
“Everyone?” Nokia echoed, suspicion creeping into her tone.
Moss hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second.
“Well…” He finally spoke, stretching out the word. “Hex is free.”
Nokia groaned immediately, rubbing a hand down her face. “Ugh. No.”
Moss stopped grooming to glance up at her. “You do realize he’s technically part of ‘everyone,’ aye?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, leaning back against her bedframe. “But do I have to deal with him today?”
Moss gave her a slow, unreadable blink. “That depends. Are you going to keep sleepin’ through meetin’s?”
Nokia scowled. “Low blow.”
Moss just purred, thoroughly unbothered. “Then get up, lass. I’ll not be dealin’ with his whining alone.”
Nokia sighed.
— — —
The empty meeting room was cold, the kind of cold that settled into her bones, making her acutely aware of just how exhausted she was. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their artificial hum filling the silence. The chairs around the long table sat eerily empty. There was no one here except Moss and herself.
Moss hopped onto a plush-covered pedestal near the head of the table, his sleek fur well-groomed as always. He took a moment to stretch, kneading the soft fabric beneath his paws before curling his tail neatly around himself. His golden eyes blinked slowly at her, assessing.
“So,” he spoke first, tone calm but expectant. “How did the mission go?”
“Horrible,” Nokia groaned, slumping into a chair like a puppet with its strings cut. She let her head drop onto the table with a dull thunk.
Moss tilted his head slightly, then reached out a paw and placed it atop her head in what she assumed was meant to be a comforting gesture. “There, there. All is well,” he said, voice full of mock sympathy. His tail flicked lazily from side to side.
Nokia didn’t bother lifting her head. Instead, she reached up, grasping his paw and pressing on his toe beans absentmindedly.
“Moss, you won’t believe what happened,” she started, voice muffled against the table. Then, as if a floodgate had burst open, the words poured out in an unstoppable torrent.
“Everything had this real weird feeling to it, and then—get this—there was this plant kid. Apple, I think? And she had this giant sunflower that tried to eat me—actually eat me! And then—then—there was this random baddie who was so hot, Moss. I think I’m in love.”
Moss blinked slowly. “...Excuse me?”
“She had a gun, Moss,” Nokia said, voice growing breathless with something that definitely wasn’t fear. “And she tried to shoot me, and that was so hot—I wish she did. And she said she was a detective, and I swear that’s the plot of some romance book I read once, so that definitely means we’re gonna get married and have fifteen children.”
Moss opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked to the side as if debating whether or not he actually wanted to engage with this nonsense.
Meanwhile, Nokia continued, completely oblivious to his suffering. “But then Apple left, and she wouldn’t let me leave, and honestly? I would’ve let her tie me up right then and there, but then I remembered it was Hexy’s turn to break me out, and hell no, so I left.”
Moss narrowed his eyes. “That was the most concerning sentence you’ve ever spoken.”
Nokia ignored him entirely. “But then I couldn’t sleep all night because she was so pretty and so nice, and her name was Ria. And I think that’s the name of a god? And if not, then she is a god, because she was so beautiful and—”
She kept rambling, voice growing more dramatic with every passing second.
Moss finally flicked his tail against her forehead, cutting her off. “Nokia.”
She blinked up at him, mid-rant.
“You are beyond saving.”
“I know,” Nokia hummed dreamily, her eyes still half-lidded as if lost in a fantasy world where dangerous, gun-wielding women fell for her on sight.
Moss sighed, long and deep, like the weight of the universe had just been placed upon his tiny feline shoulders. “Well, okay,” he said, flicking his tail dismissively. “I didn’t have anything important to say anyway. You can go now. But before you vanish into thin air or start another monologue about your inevitable wedding, let me remind you—you have a meeting later today. With a rival agency.”
Nokia blinked, momentarily snapped out of her daze. “A rival agency?”
“Yes,” Moss said flatly. “At 324, Christmas Street. 5:30 PM. Do not be late.”
“Noted,” she said cheerfully, already half out the door.
Moss watched her disappear, leaving nothing behind but a faint sparkle in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them. Then groaned.
Glitter.
Glitter was now everywhere.
Another sigh, even heavier than before, left him as he resigned himself to a long, long evening of cleaning.
— — —
The city was alive with movement, a churning tide of bodies flowing through the streets. Nokia walked aimlessly, her steps light but her mind restless. She weaved through the crowds with ease, slipping between distracted pedestrians, her gaze drifting over faces and places without truly seeing them.
Something gnawed at her—a jittery energy that made her fingers twitch, her pulse quicken. She needed something to do, something to occupy her thoughts before she spiraled into another love-struck haze.
And then she stopped.
A flower shop stood before her, tucked between two larger buildings like a secret waiting to be discovered. The sign above the door read: Petals and Peril.
The name intrigued her. With barely a moment of hesitation, she stepped inside.
The scent of fresh blooms wrapped around her instantly—warm, sweet, and comforting. The air felt thicker, softer, like stepping into another world. Shelves and vases overflowed with color—deep reds, bright yellows, soft pastels, and inky blacks.
“Hello! Welcome to Petals and Peril! What can I do for you?”
A cheerful voice pulled her attention to the counter, where a person—perhaps the shop owner—sat, their smile bright and welcoming.
“Nothing, just looking around,” Nokia replied, scanning the room.
“Alright! Just let me know if you need anything. I can show you around if you’d like!”
Nokia nodded absentmindedly, already drawn deeper into the shop.
Her fingers trailed over delicate petals, her gaze flickering from one bloom to another. Pink tulips, golden daisies, towering orchids—each more vibrant than the last. But it wasn’t until she reached the back of the store that something truly caught her eye.
A bouquet, unlike the others.
Deep crimson flowers clustered together, their color so rich it looked almost like spilled wine. And in the center—just one. A single black bloom.
Nokia didn’t know why, but she felt drawn to it. Like it was waiting for her.
She picked it up carefully and brought it to the counter. “How much for this?”
The shopkeeper’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, you chose the Crimson Requiem. A wonderful choice.” They folded their hands together. “That will be $214.99. Will that be all?”
Nokia nearly choked. “Two hundred what?! For flowers?”
The shopkeeper chuckled. “This is one of our special bouquets. Each flower was personally cultivated and incredibly difficult to acquire.”
Nokia hesitated, glancing back at the bouquet in her hands. The rational part of her said this was ridiculous. But another part—the same part that had led her here—told her she needed this.
She sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll buy it.”
The exchange was swift, and soon, she was walking back out onto the bustling street, the bouquet cradled in her arms.
She stared at the flowers, unsure why she had even wanted them so badly. There was just something about them.
A glance at the time told her she still had 20 minutes left before the meeting. More wandering would’ve been the obvious choice, but for once, she didn’t feel like walking aimlessly.
Instead, she made her way straight to the meeting spot—a small, cozy café, tucked away from the rush of the city.
—-
The air was thick with the scent of pastries, warm and sweet, mingling with the heat of ovens at work. The soft hum of conversation filled the café, a comfortable background noise against the occasional clink of plates and mugs. Nokia settled into the plush seat Moss had reserved, barely sparing a glance as a waiter prowled over.
“Strawberry cheesecake and a soft pretzel,” she ordered, her voice distant.
The plate arrived quickly, but she didn’t touch it. Instead, she sat still, fingers drumming lightly against the table, her gaze unfocused. She had walked here without much thought, lost in the quiet rhythm of the city, and now she found herself adrift once more.
Then, the door chimed—a quiet bell, barely noticeable over the low murmur of the café. Nokia looked up, uninterested at first—then froze.
Her.
Midnight-dark hair, messily tousled, framed sharp eyes that scanned the room with practiced ease. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, those eyes locked onto her.
A smirk tugged at Ria’s lips as she strode forward, her every step brimming with confidence, like she owned the place. She dropped into the seat across from Nokia without hesitation, lounging back with a casual ease that felt practiced but effortless.
“Are you the one I’m meeting?”
Nokia swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the way her palms felt clammy against the table. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”
She quickly lifted the bouquet in her hands, as if it were a shield—something to hide behind, to fill the silence between them.
Ria blinked. “...What’s with the flowers?”
Nokia hesitated. She hadn’t actually thought that far. She didn’t even know why she had bought them. But now that they were here…
She pushed them across the table.
“They’re for you.”
Ria stiffened, her usual air of smug control faltering for just a moment. A flush crept up her neck.
“F-for me?” she squeaked, voice betraying her shock.
Nokia nodded silently.
“Oh, uh…” Ria coughed, glancing at the bouquet as if it might explode in her hands. “This… isn’t usually the type of gift I get at meetings.” She reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing against the petals. “Thank you, Lidia.”
Nokia’s lips curled into a smirk, confidence flickering to life at Ria’s sudden lack of composure. “Of course not. It’s something I brought for you.”
And then, instantly, embarrassment set in.
She glanced away, fingers twitching slightly against the table as her earlier boldness faded into nervous energy. The two sat in awkward silence for a moment, Nokia’s food untouched and Ria still looking like she wasn’t sure whether to hold the flowers delicately or put them down before she lost any more dignity.
Finally, Ria cleared her throat. “W-well,” she started, her voice a touch too fast. “I guess we need to negotiate the southern boundaries between our territories… The Agency would like to have control over the Rockefeller building.”
“That can be arranged,” Nokia said smoothly, forcing herself to focus. “However, we cannot sacrifice control over the southern bridge…”
And just like that, the conversation shifted. They pretended, for both their sakes, that this was nothing more than a normal discussion between two opposing sides of the law. They ignored the way their hands fidgeted under the table. They ignored the occasional stolen glances, the heat that hadn’t quite left their faces.
Ria tried to focus on the logistics. Nokia tried to think strategically.
But all Nokia could really think was— God, she’s so fucking pretty.
She risked a glance upward, only to find Ria already looking at her. Their eyes met.
They both looked away immediately.
Ria coughed into her hand, shuffling some papers as if they weren’t both entirely distracted. Nokia turned her attention back to the table, willing her thoughts to realign.
Finally, she exhaled.
“Well,” Nokia said, standing. “Looks like time’s up. I better get going.”
Ria nodded, casting a glance toward the darkening sky. “Yeah… this isn’t something that can be decided instantly.” Her voice was quieter now, thoughtful. Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
Nokia nodded in agreement, feeling warmth creep back into her face. “We’ll have to arrange more meetings to discuss the finer details.”
“I—I’ll be free Tuesday at 7:15,” Ria said, a little too quickly.
“I’m sure I can make time.”
They both stood there, lingering in the quiet space between words.
Then Nokia cleared her throat. “Well, I gotta go now.”
“Oh, wait!” Ria reached out suddenly, her fingers brushing against Nokia’s wrist before she pulled back. “Here, take one. I can’t carry them all home.” She plucked a bright red flower from the bouquet and held it out.
Nokia hesitated, then took it carefully. “…Thanks.”
And with that, they finally parted.
Ria hurried off, her face still warm, the bouquet clutched close to her chest. Nokia walked in the opposite direction, twirling the crimson flower between her fingers, lost in thought.
And somewhere between their two paths, a single red spider lily lay abandoned on the ground, its petals still red, its leaves slowly wilting in the cool night air.