Imogen is regretting her bad choices in life, which is somewhat of a habit of hers.

This particular
choice of carrying the box of her new bookself from the from the furniture shop to her brand new
tattoo parlour doesn't even rank very high in her list of bad ideas, but as a light drizzle begins to fall
on the streets of Jrusar she thinks that maybe she should have waited for Orym to help her make the
short journey.

Next time her friend offers her to join him in the gym she's going to say yes. She used to be stronger
than this, damn it. Her farm years are far behind her and these days she spends most of her time
holding a pencil or a tattoo gun, but this is still disgraceful. It isn't even that long of a trip, which is
why she thought she could do this by herself, but see finds that she needs to rest the stupid big box
against a wall and take a breather while she wipes the sweat off her forehead with her yellow
bandana. She doesn't realise she's stepped back herself and next thing she knows she's made the
block of packed wood tip over.

She contemplates moving up the position of this particular venture a few spots higher on her shitty
ideas lists as the bookself pushes against her back and she drops her bandana on the wet pavement.
She could just get out from under the thing and let it fall, or maybe she will have enough strengh to
push it back against the wall. She just has to get a surge of her old hay baling persona back. She can
do this.

She is making a pretty undignified noise when she hears the “Oh dear, let me help” and feels some
of the weight ease of her back. It's enough to let her turn around and push it the rest of the way so
that it rests against the wall once again. Stupid fucking piece of junk. Who needs bookshelves
anyway. After she stops glaring at the piece of furniture and turns to her side to see the face of her
saviour.

Her first thought is that for a knight in white armour, this person is pretty scrawny. Her second
thought is that she is also very pretty, but now is not the time to think about that. The woman in
front of her is tall and thin, with a paleness on her skin that one doesn't find very often. Her high
cheekbones and aristocratic nose give her an air of elegance, and she has a kind smile and very dark
eyes, which turn to her with a concerned frown.

“Are you alright, dear?” Oh, great. Imogen has just been staring at this woman like a weirdo, after
having to be saved from a box, like an idiot. Now she's talking to herself in her head and she hasn't
said anything yet, and the woman is looking even more worried.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Thank you so much.” Words, see can do words. The dark haired woman
smiles and moves her hands from where she seemed to have them ready to catch or comfort this
stranger on the street. Imogen blushes and lowers and her eyes in a strange moment of shyness.
Well, not that strange. She's not the best with people, even when the circumstances aren't as
embarrasing. She must look a mess too. Red from exertion, wet from the rain and dishevelled from
having carried this lump of stupid wood along the street.

“Don't mention it. I saw you struggle with this thing from the other side of the street and I thought
I'd offer a hand”. She looks in the direction of a flower shop that Imogen had noticed several times
when she was scouting the area and finally bringing stuff in after the lease on her tattoo place had
been aproved. “I'm afraid I'm not the strongest, but maybe between the two of us we can take this to
where it needs to be”. She smiles at Imogen again. Imogen blushes again because that's just the kind
of person she is now, apparently. A blushing mess.

“You're too kind! I wouldn't want to put you out like that! You've done more than enough already.
My shop is just a couple of yards away, actually. I'm sure I can manage”. She points her thumb back
towards the sign that reads Red Moon. The sign itself is basic, much like the rest of the parlour.
She's had to start with just the bare minimum, just to get off the ground. It's nothing impressive but
it's hers and she hopes she can start renovating it little by little when the business takes off.

The woman disminisses her attempt to fend for herself with a wave of her slender hand and goes to
grab the box. Between the two of them they make short work of carrying through her door, and
Imogen is glad to finally be outside of the rain, which seems to be getting heavier by the second.
She's about to thank this kind stranger profusely when the dark haired woman says “Oh, I forgot”
and rushes out into the Jrusar streets again. Imogen hasn't even had time to stop staring at the door
in confusion when the woman comes back with her yellow bandana in her hand.

“You dropped this” she says. Like it's a normal thing to be this kind to a random person you find in
the street. “I'm sorry, it seems to be a bit dirty now”. She frowns at the garment while she hands it
over to her, and Imogen splutters a short laugh that seems to startle the woman a bit.

“You're sorry?” she manages to get out. “You have saved my stupid ass from death by bookshelf
and then you went out into the rain to get my bandana.”

“I'm sure you would have been fine, you seem very capable”. She seems to mean it, even though
she doesn't know Imogen at all.

Standing in the middle of the mess of boxes and second hand and cheap furniture that's filling her
barely started workplace right now, wet and exhausted from her adventure, Imogen doesn't feel very
capable at all. She doesn't want to contradict this kind stranger though. She suddenly realizes that
she hasn't even given her name or asked about hers. For a psychology major, Imogen is amazed at
how bad she is at people sometimes. She almost wishes Orym were here. He's good at people. He's
great. Then again, if he had seen this whole interaction Imogen would never hear the end of it. She
realizes she has once again let a long time go by without speaking, and both of them are still
holding on to the light yellow piece of fabric.

“I'm Imogen, by the way”. She moves the bandana away and extends her gloved hand to make a
proper introduction. Like a normal person. Orym would be proud.

“Laudna. Nice to meet you”, the woman says. Her handshake is light but steady, and her bright
smile leaves Imogen a bit disoriented. “I'm the owner of the flower shop right across the street. It's
nice to see this place being used again. What is it, anyway? I'm guessing it's not another fruit shop.
Hopefully not a flower shop either”. Laudna's eyes crinkle when she says that, looking around the
space, probably to get more clues from the place.

Imogen and Orym haven't unpacked much yet, so there's no art of her tattoos designs on the walls,
and the chairs and the equipment are behind the closed doors on the back of the parlour. “Oh god
no. I have the opposite of a green thumb. I have fingers of death.” She wriggles said fingers at the
woman. Why is she talking about fingers now? She doesn't want this woman to think her fingers are
deadly. Not that she wants her to think about her fingers at all. Why is she like this?

She puts down her “death fingers” and tries not get flustered again while she continues. “My
partner and I are opening a tattoo and piercing shop. We're hoping to get it running soon”.

God she really needs to get it running soon. Her bills are mounting up, and while they have a bit of
cushion which with to start the business she really needs to start getting real money fast if she and
Orym want to keep the place.
“Oh, I'm sure you're not that bad. Everyone can be good with plants if they are willing to be patient
and learn what makes them tick” she has a wistful look about her, and she's still looking around,
inspecting the place. “I'm sure your husband and you will be very sucessful. This place has a lot of
potential, interior design wise”.

“No, no no no! No husband!” just the idea of Orym and herself like that shortcircuits her brain a
little bit. “Business partner! We only do business together”.

“Wow, five noes. He really must be something”. Laudna chuckles a bit, and even through the
embarasment and the brain sprain that thinking about Orym in a romantic sense gave Imogen, she
can't help but think that it sounds melodic.

“No! He's great! His name is Orym and he's nice and handsome and kind and he's a great friend”.
Great, now it sounds like he's trying to sell his friend to this woman. “and he's gay! Very gay” she
splutters. She's definitely lost track of where this was going. “I'm...” her last braincell seems to
come online at the last second, before she also tells this almost stranger about her raging
homosexuality “...single”. Well, that sounded only slightly less desperate, she supposes.

Laudna seems very amused by how much of an idiot Imogen is making of herself. She looks like
she's trying to not laugh out loud, which Imogen appreciates even though she's aware that she
deserves public mockery. She feels like her whole face is flushed, and her ears are burning. She
tucks a lock of her violet hair behind her ear and tries to think of something else to say that doesn't
make her sounds like a complete lunatic when Laudna starts talking again.

“I'm really sorry, but I have to go. I've left my shop unattended and I'm afraid the peonies are not
going to sell themselves”. She frowns a little, like she's thinking about how that would work, before
she shakes her head and looks at Imogen again. She's a little strange, Imogen supposes. Her clothes
look a bit old fashioned, and her pale skin and the white streak in her hair give her a mysterious
aura that's a bit eerie.

“Please, I'm the one that's sorry for keeping you away. I really can't thank you enough, you've been
wonderful. Please let me do something for you”. She looks around trying to find something to pay
back the favor, but she only finds boxes and the unassembled bookshelf that started this whole
thing. Well, there's also some leftover burrito from this morning because she couldn't finish the
whole thing. Nothing says thank you for not letting me get crushed though.

“It's just the neighbourly thing to do, dear. Please don't worry about it! I really must go though”.
Imogen nods and goes to hold the door open the door for her. She can do that much. She wishes she
had an umbrella to lend Laudna, but even after five years of living in Jrusar she still finds herself
unprepared for its sudden changes in weather.

“I'm right across this place if you need anything”. With that she starts walking, seemingly
unconcerned about the rain or the admitedly light traffic that's going through their small street in
this cloudy afternoon.

Imogen is left waving her goodbye for what is probably way too long, but she's rewarded for it
when Laudna reaches her doorstep and turns back around to wave too, giving her another little
smile before getting inside her shop.

When she goes back inside she glares at the bookshelf package and rolls up her sleeves. She's
assembling this thing before the day is done. She'll show this stupid piece of murdering wood who's
the boss here. If she thinks about this strange encounter every now and then while she's working,
well, there's no one here to judge her.