Song: moody autumn playlist by poeticamente

Ambrose blinked. "What is this?"

Caius' honey hued eyes slid from the bulky man in front of him to the bouquet of flowers he'd just placed on the desk. "Well, it would appear to be a bouquet of one hundred roses, sir."

Ambrose frowned, careful to keep his distance as he took a few steps back from the abomination before him. His skin was already itchy just looking at it and for a moment he swore his eyes were beginning to water.

Who the fuck sends roses to someone that's allergic to roses? he thought bitterly.

"Who sent them?" he asked, rolling his greasy black gloves back on to reduce any chances of the flowers touching his skin. Caius plucked the card from the holder, tilting it so that he could read the golden calligraphy. "Carmichael."

Ambrose sighed, annoyed by the sight of the surname alone as the short woman and her running mouth came to mind. What had it been, two, maybe three days since they last met at the cafe? He couldn't fathom why she'd be sending him flowers. Especially when he so clearly stated that she needed to keep her money to herself.

While Ambrose glared at the offending bouquet, Caius flipped open the card, curious. He scanned the apology, broad nose twitching, causing his wiry, black glasses to shift.

"What does the card say?"

"Miss Carmichael states her regret. She's sorry for insulting your shop and interfering with Cameron." Caius closed the card, setting it down on the desk. A cold breeze tickled the back of his neck as the door to the shop opened. Caius shoved his thin hands into the pockets of his tan trench coat and turned to look at the newcomer.

It was an older man, probably around his uncle's age. He was wearing the same dark overalls as Ambrose except his were tighter around the belly. Beer gut, if Caius had to guess. And he had a salt and pepper beard to match his salt and pepper hair.

Ambrose groaned once he saw John's chapped lipped smirk. He knew what that look meant.

"She's back again, isn't she?"

John nodded eagerly, chuckling at his boss's uncomfortable body language. "Brought the car in complaining about something under the hood needing to be looked at. I've got Timmy looking right now. But we both know that he ain't the one she's looking for and that is not the hood she wants to be looked at."

Ambrose cleared his throat loudly. He yanked his sleeves down to cover his arms as he rounded the desk, careful to keep a healthy distance from the roses. "Alright, John. That's enough. I'll be out in a second."

John nodded, a cheery smile on his aged face. He always found it funny to watch Ambrose dance around the flirty customers. Most were smoking hot women that, if given the chance, John would snap up in a second. He could never understand how Ambrose could so easily turn down such easy and casual sex. A man had needs, after all!

His plain blue eyes finally took notice of Caius. The younger man was unimpressed. Or bored, he couldn't tell with his expressionless face. When Caius checked the time on what looked like an old rolex, John whistled. "Nice watch."

Caius tugged his sleeve lower to cover the silver watch, clocking the flicker of interest in the old man's eyes. "Thanks."

"How much was it?"

Caius shrugged, disinterested and not keen on discussing money. "No clue," he lied. "It's a family heirloom."

One of the Carmichael grandfathers from way way back had a hobby of buying watches and fixing them up. They'd been passed down to the current generation of grandkids. Him and Kiki wore theirs daily. Lilah and Lonnie weren't fans of watches so they rarely wore theirs. Sylvie died before she was old enough to inherit hers.

"John," Ambrose interrupted, "I'll be out there in a minute."

John gave the ginger man's covered wrist one last look then left. Caius didn't miss the terribly disguised look of greed and he made sure to avoid the man on his way out.

"Look, you can tell your boss that I accepted the apology," Ambrose said. "But I can't keep the flowers. I'm allergic to roses."

Caius raised a brow. "My boss?"

Ambrose looked at the tall man. He was younger than him, or, at least, he thought he was. Ambrose couldn't tell for sure but he seemed to be some mixture of white and Asian. It was hard to pinpoint if the youth he saw in his blank face was a reflection of his age. Or simply good genes.

Either way, he had a rolex. Fitted dark brown tweed pants (he only noticed because of Vincent) and brown loafers. Styled hair. Even the simple silver earrings he wore looked somewhat expensive.

With Lilah being rich as hell from her family and chain of cafes, he naturally assumed that this was her errand boy. "You're not Miss Carmichael's secretary or something?"

A glint that he couldn't make sense of flashed within the saccharine eyes before him. "Oh, I am. I just didn't think it was that obvious."

There was an awkward pause and then Ambrose pushed on. He couldn't afford to waste his time here when he had more important things to do.

"Right, well. Can you return the flowers?"

"Return the flowers?" Caius repeated, amused when Ambrose gave him a wide berth to retrieve the large bouquet. It was only $130 but lovely nonetheless. He didn't have time to take them to Lilah as the train taking him back to New Haven left in forty minutes. He also didn't fancy holding a thing of roses for a little over three hours either. "No. Can't do that. Sorry, sir."

Caius turned on his heel and exited the shop. Ambrose's mouth fell open as the mysterious man took a right turn, heading for the garage instead of leaving. He scrambled after him, not wanting some random man poking around his shop. By the time he caught up the ginger was standing in front of Jill, holding the bouquet out to her.

Ambrose bit his bottom lip, pity swelling in his chest. There was a light sheen of purple peeking out from underneath the makeup Jill used to cover it up near her right eye. She was bundled up in dark layers, hiding the rest of her small body from any prying eyes. The sun, however, was her biggest foe. It shed light upon the cracks in her porcelain mask. Revealing the colored spots that a thin layer of foundation couldn't conceal.

The working men didn't bother to hide the fact that they were staring. They'd long perfected the art of retrieving tools and keeping an eye on where the drama was unfolding with ease.

Ambrose rolled his eyes once he caught John's eye. The older man was practically egging him on to go ahead and swoop in. Whisk Jill away from the secretary and then do her in front of everyone like some kind of caveman.

Ambrose snorted. There was no way in hell that that would ever happen.

Jill was pretty and sweet but she wasn't his type. She lacked a certain fire within her that Ambrose was subconsciously drawn to when it came to women.

"These are for me?" her voice came out in a meek squeak. Jill's hazel eyes widened as she accepted the beautiful bouquet. No one had ever given her something so gorgeous in her entire life. Her busted lips (poorly concealed with red lipstick) parted in awe. "But, why?"

She knew her husband didn't buy them for her. No way he would dare to waste more than twenty bucks on her if he had to. Jill knew she wasn't worth it anyway. She knew better than to hope that he had suddenly turned things around and was going to be nice to her too.

"Because you're beautiful," Caius replied. His eyes grazed her swollen cheek and he took out his leather wallet. Pressing a white business card into her hand, he said, "Go here when you've finally had enough. They'll help you get your life together."

Shock rippled throughout Jill as the unknown stranger turned to leave. Her eyes glazed over with unshed tears when she saw what was written on the card. It advertised a women's shelter somewhere in Philadelphia that she'd never been to.

"Hey!" she called out to him but the man didn't stop. "Hey! What's your name?!"

He stopped, spinning on his heel in a sort of slow motion. The sunlight set his honey eyes on fire and Ambrose could've sworn that his plump lips were smirking. But when he blinked the smirk was gone, a trick of the light, perhaps, and the calm expression returned to the man's face.

"Caius," his breezy voice replied. "My name is Caius."

"I haven't seen you around before."

Caius shrugged. That fleeting smirk flashed so quickly that Ambrose was starting to gaslight himself. He probably needed to make an appointment with the eye doctor or get new contacts. That was definitely it.

"I'm just the delivery boy," Caius said. His eyes slid towards Ambrose before settling back on Jill. "Have a good day, pretty lady."

Ambrose watched Caius walk down the street. He was surprised to see him waiting at a bus stop in the distance with no expensive car to take him away. When Ambrose turned back to meet Jill's eyes his breath stuttered.

In her sad gaze was a spark of shyness and hope. She clutched the bouquet of flowers and gave Ambrose the sweetest smile he'd ever seen.

She thought they were from him.

"Fuck," Ambrose muttered. All he wanted to do today was fix a couple of cars and then inform his men of their incoming doom as a business. But now, because of a bouquet of dumb roses, he had to deal with the goo goo eyes Jill was shooting his way. "Damn you, Princess. Damn you."

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QOTD: What trouble do you think this bouquet of 100 roses is about to stir up for Ambrose now that they're in Jill's hopeful hands? What are your thoughts on Caius now that we've seen him say more than one sentence?