"Flower store?" Dylan echoed a little dumbly. The image that came to his mind was the friendly woman who had sold him a potted plant of yellow flowers that looked like buttercups but weren't really. His face flushed pink, remembering what had transpired between him and Dave after that. It wasn't appropriate to be thinking that sort of thing with Salvia pressed so close.
"I don't think she'd hurt me." Dylan replied, "I just don't know how good I'd be at selling flowers. Do you think anyone would want to buy them from a delinquent like me?" He raised his free hand to rub at the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "Maybe if I had you to vouch for me." He said finally. "And," He added, "You would have to teach me about flowers, alright?"