Ambrose Keller

chuckle escapes him.

“Thank you, Claggor. That was really sweet of you to say. Probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, actually,” he admits softly. “And—for what it’s worth, I think you’re /very/ handsome, too. Really charming.”

And, just like that, he’s flushed all over again.

on an endless loop.

The moment the server takes their menus and walks away, Ambrose has nowhere to hide. He has to face Claggor again, has to deal with the way his cheeks still feel much too hot. But this time, instead of shying away, he's the one to reach out for touch again. A soft, nervous —

They came here to eat, not for him to melt into a puddle over a single compliment.

When it’s his turn, he places his order—a simple glass of water and a bowl of beef stew. Safe. Easy. Not something that requires too much thought, because his brain is currently occupied with replaying the words —

to clear his throat, scrambling for composure. “Uh—Claggor, you go first,” he says, voice a little too quick, a little too high. He lifts the menu just slightly, as if it can shield him from the heat blooming across his face.

As his companion orders, Ambrose forces himself to /focus/. Food. Right.—

to say /something/, anything—when their server appears at the worst (or maybe best) possible moment. The words die in his throat.

Flustered beyond reason, he suddenly realizes he forgot all about what’s on the menu. He blinks down at it, but the words swim uselessly in front of him. It's his turn —

Ambrose? Yes, he’s just /stunned/.

No one’s ever said something like that to him before. Not in a way that feels /real/, anyway, not in a way that holds the kind of weight Claggor’s words do. His heart stumbles over itself, caught between excitement and sheer disbelief. He’s about to reply, about —

those words—soft, unguarded, slipping right past Claggor’s lips before they can be stopped.

He /knows/ Claggor is embarrassed. It’s written all over him; the way his face goes red, the way he clears his throat and all but dives at the convenient distraction of the approaching waiter. But —

Ambrose freezes. For a second, he forgets how to breathe, how to think—how to /do/ anything except stare at Claggor, wide-eyed and stunned.

The brush of their fingers against each other’s is brief, barely more than a whisper of touch, but it sends warmth curling through his chest. And then —

𝔸 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

🌹 @sweetambrose.bsky.social 🌹

flickering on each table. An easy and comfortable place, picked exactly for that.

They’re led to a small table by the window. As they sit, Ambrose can’t help but glance at Claggor again, his heart still beating faster than usual. “Have you ever been in here? It's simple cuisine, but [ so ] good!”

and he lets himself lean slightly into it.

The restaurant is softly lit, a cosy kind of atmosphere that makes Ambrose exhale some of the tension he’s been holding onto. It’s not overly fancy, just the right amount of charm with its polished wooden floors, soft hum of conversation, & a few candles —

of it, to be honest.” His smile tilts a bit sheepishly. “Guess I’ve got a reason to brush up on it now.”

He doesn’t shy away from the hand at his back—in fact, the gentle pressure is grounding, reassuring. A small comfort he didn’t know he needed, but welcomes all the same. It eases his nerves, —

Ambrose laughs softly, the sound light and genuine, as they step inside. “I actually read about the language of flowers a while back,” he says, glancing at Claggor with a spark of interest. “I thought it was fascinating, how something as simple can carry so much meaning. But… I’ve forgotten most —

a bit shy but pleased. “Figured it’d bring me luck.”

He steps toward the door, heart thudding loud enough he swears Claggor might hear it. “Thanks for meeting me here. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

like he’s standing too close to his ovens again.

When Claggor motions to the flower, Ambrose’s fingers instinctively brush against it. “Yeah? I, uh... thought it might be a nice touch,” he says, —

the word. “No, no, you're fine, I got here just a few minutes ago!”

He take in Claggor’s outfit, the subtle sheen of cologne in the air, and it hits him all over again—this is real. Claggor looks [ good ], and the little baker feels his face heat slightly, —

Ambrose’s head snaps up the moment he hears Claggor’s voice. Just like that, the tight knot of nerves in his chest loosens a little. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, warm and a little sheepish.

“Hey,” he breathes, relief and excitement tumbling together in —

of the restaurant's neon sign, his chest tight with anticipation.

He takes a breath, then another, nerves steadying just slightly. Lunch together—just lunch. No big deal, right? Right.

and he knows it.

He could’ve waited in front of the flower shop, but the idea of hovering near Claggor’s work made him feel like he might rush him. Claggor is careful with his flowers, patient, precise. He didn’t want to disturb that.

So here he is, standing under the gentle glow —

thoughtfully chosen: fitted trousers, a pale linen shirt with rolled sleeves, and a soft jacket that hits just the right balance between polished and comfortable. He’s not trying too hard. At least, he hopes he isn’t. His heart’s beating too fast for someone simply waiting for lunch, —

something sweeter layered beneath it, something blooming. Maybe it’s the flower tucked behind his ear, a soft violet sprig from the crown Claggor gave him the previous day. He couldn’t resist adding it to his outfit; it felt right, like a quiet thank you.

His clothes are casual but —

[ @ofzaunbrawn.bsky.social ]

Ambrose stands just outside the restaurant, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he scans the street. His fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt, smoothing out wrinkles that don’t really exist. The air carries the usual, typical scents, but there's —

OH GODS TODAY IS THE DAY—

Ah, how about the next day?

( This way he'll have time to prepare mentally /and/ physically—but mostly mentally! )

Say, that restaurant just at the end of the flower shop's street? The one with the green sign above the door?

Hmm...

Guess it's a deal, then~ Little treats for flower crowns!

Perhaps they couldddd... properly seal it over lunch, sometime soon?

‼️😳

He'll wear it all day! And the day after that! He'll wear it until it wilts!

Special jam cookies to celebrate spring! 🏵️🌸

a quick look outside... Weather is nice, but it's windy as all hell. He'll need to get a new scarf...