II. Mannequins, Flowers, and You

He watched her make fake flowers as if it was going out of style. The two sat in the corner of the shop, the girl periodically taking him to the back of the place and trading clothes until the flowers were sewn onto her dress where she wanted them to be.

"You're the best model I could ask for." She said as she went back to pressing the fabric into the mold in front of her. "You stand perfectly still like a mannequin."

He nodded, helping her cut the rougher material to work with. He knew to keep the velvet away from her, but the vellum was fine. When everyone left at the end of the day it was just her muffled breathing and some occasional humming keeping the place alive, and she knew she was running out of time before the sun set and they had to walk home.

She was dead set on cutting out the rest of the flowers to prepare for the next morning. They both knew it was getting late. "I just want them done so I can sleep in. You know, tonight I need to stay up extra late so I can move Orville's things around so you can get a good night's sleep for your house call."

"Azalea?" He said, handing her the last piece of white silk. Her head whipped around just fast enough that he thought something was wrong or worse, she didn't like the nickname he had been itching to try out for a good week now.

"Y-yeah?" She asked, raising a finger and pointing it at herself before going back to cutting out the shapes. "That was directed at me, right?"

"I just thought it would be nice to call you something pretty like that," He averted his eyes, waiting for a proper response from her.

"It's pretty, I'll give you that." She said, putting her tools down. "I'm not going to start calling you a mannequin, if that's what you're asking."

"Not at all." He smiled, playing with a few of the fake flowers in his hands.

The girl now known as Azalea stood up, the basket full of flowers soon tucked away on a top shelf for her eyes only. She knew no one else would look up there and steal her work. She grabbed the boy by the hand and closed up shop behind him, looking through the glass of the front door before seeing her own reflection. Her dress looked much better with the flowers on it, and she could only start working on enough small ones to line the bottom of it next time she sat down with him.

"I'm happy you aren't a farm boy." She said as they started down the long dirt path that would lead them back home. "Orville could never be as good of an assistant as you."

"We're official now, huh?" His hands were behind his back playing coy. "Though I do prefer loyal servant over assistant."

"I mean, you've been sticking around me for how long now?"

"I'm not getting paid." He said. "Not that it really matters."

"You are." Azalea grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "You just won't realize it until later."

It was that very night he woke up to wander into the closet to see Azalea with her face pressed against the mannequin's chest on the floor, sleeping with nothing but a suit jacket as a blanket.

It was cute. Heartwarming, even. He knew that she knew that was his Sunday best, and he was the only one that bothered dressing up to go to town. If she wanted to try it on she could have asked, but she knew the mannequin was off limits. It was an heirloom, a word he only read about in stories that wasn't supposed to be touched.

He laid down on the other side of it, his fingers slowly intertwining with her outstretched hand before falling asleep with a smile on his face.

III. Contracts, Demons, and You Back