Fucking Valentine's Day.

Everyone wants a custom bouquet, made today by me personally. Everyone wants a custom vase engraved with their true love's name. And everyone thinks that the very large, very obvious sign that says 'Order Ahead for Holidays' somehow doesn't apply to them.

It's days like these that make me seriously consider murdering every cape that isn't associated with Accord and letting him administrate the city into something reasonable.

At least some of them did their research. An eccentric German couple, a professional-looking Asian man, a boy and girl who are too familiar with parahuman stuff to be anything other than off-duty Wards, and a few more prepared romantics who thanked me quietly before leaving quickly.

The rest, though...

I doubled the prices the first time someone yelled that they needed to jump the line because of true love. Then again when someone offered to buy the spot of the person in front of them. The jury's still out on whether it was worth it.

I decided no new customers at three. Early for a flower shop on Valentine's Day? Yes. But the line already stretched around the block and some rough math told me that if I served only the already waiting patrons I wouldn't be leaving here until six at the earliest. When that little tidbit made its way down the line, about half the customers suddenly decided that something less pricey would be just the thing for their significant other.

I didn't mind. I had too much work already.

At five I'm finally done. Maybe I could've stayed open and picked up a few more people. Maybe the junior employee that suggested that because they wanted to get off shift and buy my flowers could've triggered and grown their own damn art piece. I close up shop and nod politely to Proticao and Maudlin, who're also closing up shop across the street. Proticao waves me over with a steel-clad hand, the orange lights on her armor twinkling merrily. Maudlin straightens his coat, pink fur rippling slightly in the wind and vertical eyelids flickering shut over his blue eyes before giving me a sharp-toothed grin.

"White Rose, come an' talk," the Case 53 says, a growl at the back of his throat. "We'd like ya help with finaglin' out th' plans for th' night."

"I need you to convince him that just because he can step into any bar in the city and get drinks on the house doesn't mean he should visit every bar in the city and get drinks on the house," Proticao says, the orange lights on her helm flickering into a frown. "We don't know how his biology will handle the alcohol and there are too many bars for anyone to survive such a plan anyway."

Maudlin brushes aside the concerns with the back of his hand, claws sheathed, fur flat and relaxed. "Every bar's a bit o' amusin' th' truth. Just wanted to get some drinks with ya. So, watcha say?" he finishes, leaning forward over the table towards me and smiling with his lips closed.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I dig it out. Amy. I shake my head mournfully at the two of them and wave my phone at the pink-furred administrator.

"Afraid I'll have to take a rain check. Amy and I already made plans."

"You an' the fleshripper..." Maudlin says, temporarily taken aback. I feel a now-familiar frustration arise in my chest. I ripple some ribs to calm myself as Proticao shakes her head.

"You are not the first to make that mistake but no, White Rose informed me that she was without a lover and heterosexual when she rejected my own advances some time ago-"

"I really must be going," I interrupt, fighting down a flush behind my mask of petals. The raw number of people who attempt to pair me with women is already too high without adding a meddlesome Thinker to the mix. "Good evening to you both."

"This ain't over," Maudlin calls after me, his voice ringing with a cackle barely restrained. "Gonna get the story 'bout you an' th' flashlight 'ventually!"

I flag down a cab two blocks away from the shop and rattle off an address. He gets me there with a minimum of fanfare so I tip him with an open rose blossom.

"Have a happy Valentine's Day," I say, waving goodbye at him through the passenger side window. He gives me a two-finger salute and a smile before maneuvering back into traffic. I wonder if he has somewhere to be later tonight. I shrug and turn to the house. Three stories, old, and well maintained, with a tiny yard maybe ten minutes from the beach and fifteen from a Walker Brothers. I knew that Carol and Mark had good life insurance policies but the meaning of that is easy to forget until you walk into what's basically a mansion in the middle of a major city.

I try the door and realize it's open. I hear raised voices and approach slowly.

"Vicky, Taylor and I are going out for drinks because spending Valentine's Day alone sucks and you and Sarah have plans, not because we're hopelessly in love with each other and need a quiet moment to confess and bang," Amy says, exasperation seeping into every syllable. "For the last fucking time, she's straight. Hell, she's not even the straight that could be potentially interested in girls. She wants the beef, not the lean."

I bring a hand to my temple and begin massaging it. Oh boy, this ought to be good.

"I don't know why you're so against this," Vicky says. "You have complementary powers, you both fall within the half age plus seven rule, and you're both reasonably attractive." I shake my head. Really Victoria? That's how you pair people? I push open the door quietly. Neither of them notice, still locking eyes across the dining table. I take the moment to settle down on a couch.

"We are good friends. She is also a comfortably heterosexual woman. Please. Stop." I can practically feel the barely-restrained rage in Amy's voice. A thought comes to mind and I start making a bouquet of flowers.

"First, let us remember that you can tsundere with the best of them," Victoria says, pointing at Amy, who tosses her head to the side with a snort. "I'm being serious!" she exclaims, spreading her hands in exasperation. "You're a prickly one, and showing affection might be difficult. Second, most romances start in the workplace."

"Because people spend a lot of time together, not because there is something inherently sexy about working," Amy shoots back. "Do you even remember what has to happen for the two of us to be in the same room these days? 'Hey Isidis, do you wanna go out in date?' 'Sure, just let me finish patching up this guy's large intestine!'" She leans forward, staring at her sister. "That's the organ that's filled with shit by the way!"

"All I'm saying is that I support you and your choices," Victoria says, lifting her hands in a show of surrender before reaching across the table to gently grab one of Amy's hands, a soft smile on her face. "And that you should love who you want to love."

She manages to hold the expression for a whole minute. I'm impressed. Then her smile shifts from warm and welcoming to mirthful and she breaks out into howls of laughter. Amy just stares, frowning. Victoria actually falls out of her chair.

"It wasn't that funny," I hear Amy whisper. Even as part of the butt of the joke, I have to disagree. It was that funny.

I stand up, cracking my joints as I do. Both of their eyes snap towards me, gazes hard enough to break rocks and promptly softening to something more suitable when they know I'm not a threat. I put a smile on my mask, porcelain and sweet.

"Are you about ready to go Amy?" I ask, holding the roses across my chest.

"Yeah," she says, slinging a backpack over her shoulder. Victoria gives me a knowing look that makes me thankful for keeping the full-face mask. Otherwise my grin would be a dead giveaway.

Amy and I walk up to the front door before I call back "Hey Victoria, could I have a word?" I turn to Amy. "Meet me at my apartment," I whisper. She looks at me with confused eyes before realization dawns. The viciousness in her smile is something to behold..

"What's up?" Victoria says, floating over to us, eye level with me. Perfect. I look at my feet, playing the shy paramour.

"Well, I was wondering..." I trail off. Take the bait. Do it. You know you want to.

"Ohmygodisthisactuallyhappening," I hear her mutter before she clears her throat. "You were wondering what?" she asks as a sudden rush of awe flows through me. Good, that will make this next part easier.

"I was just thinking... how do you feel about girls liking girls?" I ask, the bouquet still in my hands, my eyes slowly tracking up to her face.

"Itisactuallyhappening," she murmurs. She shakes her head and looks me in the eye. "I think it's a wonderful thing for people to be in love," she says and another wave adoration flows through me. "Pursue whoever you want."

"In that case could you hold these?" I ask, pushing the dozen roses into her chest. She grabs it shock in her features, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. That means her hands are occupied and when I cup her face and press my lips to hers, she goes for a french kiss immediately.

It doesn't last more than a second, but that's long enough for me to learn that her relationship with Gallant was not quite as chaste as his name implies. I hold the kiss, long enough to get some decent goddamn payback for all the jokes and mortifying-as-hell 'dates' with her sister that she's engineered. It's also long enough for her to snap out of it and drop the flowers.

I push myself out of the house, shredding my suit as I armor up and start gaining altitude. A necessary sacrifice. Victoria is behind me, howling with rage. She wouldn't hurt me too much. Her control's gotten good enough that she doesn't even cause concussions anymore.

Nonetheless, where's the fun in talking things out?

I bounce between high rises, abusing my agility for all it's worth, laughing hard enough that some people look up. What must this look like to them? Two good friends, one laughing and one screaming. Did Vicky finally snap? Is this just some disagreement we decided to settled using a game of tag hundreds of feet off the ground? Or is it something less sensical that only a cape could understand?

I eventually run out of platforms. Victoria flies straight for me, focused and furious. I smirk and fall backwards, spreading out wafer-thin bone. I focus as I fall straight down, gaining speed, lengthening my wings even more. Then, when Victoria is about to catch me and the streets are becoming visible enough to make out the beginnings of faces, I spin and flare the constructs.

This is the part I never get used to. It always feels like a dream, like something that could never happen. I reflexively snap a toe bone and smile at the pain. Real.

The wind catches my wings, straining them and lifting me away. Victoria overshoots, curving around for a second pass. We're in her domain now, and I've lost the advantage. Perfect arial movement will always trumps gliding.

I don't really care. Any reason to fly is a good reason.