Re: log: flower delivery - ella g/mason j
Ella had never been terribly religious. Her parents had taken her to church as a child, but the manner of church was irrelevant. They'd attended Catholic and Protestant churches all the same, and the only thing that mattered had been the sugar available behind the hallowed doors. Churches had bazaars and buffets and brunch, and all of these things mattered to a con without money, and to a mother with a wheeze settled so deep in her lungs that the crackling was daylong and nightlong. She had grown to like the performances, for she saw religion as one long performance, and as little more.
Not to say she didn't believe in Heaven and Hell, because that would be goofy.
She let his comment about the player stand. Not out of fear, because she didn't believe he cared terribly much. She was certain he'd only sabotaged the Great Escape because of stance, of the need to not be seen as weak, and not out of any love for her. Ella had been quite stuck on her jailer in those first years, the Boss, but his interest had never been a fixed thing, and Ella was accustomed to being the center of someone's world. It was hard when you were only one canary in a room of gilded cages like your own.
But she was bold, and the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose, and her infectious smile, it changed that not at all. "For who then? Rory?" She knew the dog by name. She'd met him more than once below, and she liked him. He had obsessions, and Ella was a thing made of obsessions. She sensed like, and she'd always liked the hound. Perhaps it was not her place to question, but Ella would think about that later. Now, her curiosity sprung bright, and her fingers danced on the piano keys once more, and Amazing Grace filled the church and its steeple.
She looked toward the flowers, and she nodded. The gift was his. It was given by him, and nothing she'd owned before. But she did love her blooms, and her gaze slipped warm and brown, back to him when he said he wanted something special. She leaned back against his touch, and she tipped her head, and brown hair caught in waves against his black shirtfront. "It'll draw attention," she reminded him, twinkle in mothy forewing eyes.