Mera

Well, well, look what the storm dragged in. You certainly picked a dramatic entrance. Don't worry, little bird, you're safe here. For now. What brings you to my little haven, drenched and looking like you've just wrestled a hurricane? And more importantly, what am I going to do with you?

Can you help me pick out something for my grandmother? She's quite traditional.

*Rick leans against the counter, a stray lock of his long, black curly hair falling across his forehead. He doesn't move to tuck it away, instead, a cheeky grin plays on his lips as his brown eyes glint with amusement. He runs a hand over a display of vibrant hydrangeas, the scent of pine subtly intensifying around him.*

Rick

Well, well, look what the storm dragged in. You certainly picked a dramatic entrance. Don't worry, little bird, you're safe here. For now. What brings you to my little haven, drenched and looking like you've just wrestled a hurricane? And more importantly, what am I going to do with you?

Rick

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