Rosalli has a thing for white roses. Her room is decorated in them - and her mother can't disapprove, because, after all, roses are roses, even if red is her mother's preferred colour.

She is currently examining a sleeveless shirt with a white rose in full bloom that's on sale, because obviously no one wears sleeveless shirts in this weather.

Her hair is just in a ponytail today - she was in a hurry. Her favorite green coat is draped over her arm, because it's just too warm inside the mall to wear it, and she's still in her work uniform.

So tempting... especially since it's on sale, and looks like it's the last one.

Keye is also examining on-sale girls' shirts (probably of the larger variety, to accomodate his height and broad shoulders), and happens to brush against her (not an uncommon occurence).
"Oh, sorry 'bout that," he says habitually, then blinks. "Oh. Hey."

She looks up. (And up.)

"Hey."

Small smile.

"How're you doing?"

He looks considering.
"I'm okay. Just got saddled with one hell of a kid-watching job, but...well, just okay."
He leans over to check the price on something.
"You?"

"Pretty good."

She looks at him skeptically.

"Someone's trusting you to babysit?"

Eek, poor kid.

"Ouch." he clutches exaggeratedly at his chest. "Considering you've met me once, I think I'm hurt."

"It scares me to think about you taking care of a rose."

Shrug.

"I figure it's harder to keep a kid than a plant, so..."

"Never knew any roses." One-shouldered shrug. "I know this kid. And it's only a coupla days. And he's like..."
Ninety.
"Fourteen?"

"Well, at least it's not a baby."

She smiles.

"Hey, it's not my business anyway. Good luck, okay?"

"God no, I'd die."
He chuckles.
"Heh. Thanks. I...I dunno, my friend asked me to, and I couldn't say no. So what's up?"

"Not much."

She tilts her head.

"So... how's Jeremy? I haven't seen him in a while."

"Mmm...hard to say..."
Jeremy is a complex fellow.

"I would guess he's...not great but okay."
Keye actually thinks he's worse than just 'okay', but he's not sure how much he should tell a near-stranger about his friend.

"Oh."

She frowns a little. He was pretty nice, if a little flirtatious.

"I hope things work out for him."

"Yeah."
Keye looks troubled.
"Me too."

Pause.
"That's a nice shirt, by the way. You should get it."

Subject change? Okay.

"Yeah, I was thinking about it. Only thing is that I'd probably wear it out too fast for it to be worth it."

Because she would wear it all the time.

"'S on sale, yeah? You aren't gonna get it any cheaper than that."
He blushes slightly and tugs at the hem of his own shirt, which is by no means in the best of conditions.
"Well...I wouldn't worry 'bout it."

"Yeah..."

She traces the design lovingly.

"Eh, what the he--ck." Her mother disapproves of swearing, as a general rule. It's habit.

She takes the shirt off the rack and smiles giddily.

"Wearing clothes out means you're gettin' your money's worth and stuff. And it's pretty."
Keye likes pretty things. This is evidenced by the fact that he's examining a shirt with what appears to be bluebells on it.

"Do you always shop in the girl's section?"

How odd.

She holds the shirt up against herself and looks down thoughtfully.

"Thank god I'm not growing anymore. This is going to be tight."

"No." he holds the shirt horizontally in front of him. That isn't going to be long enough. Sigh.
"Just sometimes. Why?"

"Just wondered. It must be hard to find anything that fits."

She, on the other hand, is petite and pretty and finds clothing that fits her everywhere she goes.

Except stores that cater to larger bodies. Heh.

"Mm, not just in girl clothes."
Keye is tall. It makes life difficult.

"Yeah... I guess it would. Have you ever thought about getting your clothes custom-made?"

Up until recently, he probably couldn't afford it. But she doesn't know that.

"If I got my clothes custom-made, would I be looking at on-sale girl shirts right now?"
He's dirt-poor. Duh.

(He isn't. He has an inheritance and a job. But he still thinks that way. Hence the continually ratty quality of his clothes.)

Shrug.

"It's not like it's impossible. I just asked if you ever thought about it."

It was just a question, jeez.

"Never did. Can't afford--"

He looks bemused.
"Well. Not my thing."

"Just a thought."

Shrug.

"Or if you know anybody who sews, you can get them to help you out. Or learn yourself."

"Bo might..." he taps a finger against his lower lip, thoughtful. He already asks a lot of Bo.
"I can't."

"It's not that hard. You just follow the instructions in the patterns and stuff."

Shrug.

(It's not that hard when you've been doing it since you were eight, anyway.)

"Patterns, okay, but aren't needles kinda small? Pointy?"
He holds up one hand, fingers held apart to demonstrate the approximated size. It varies, because his fingers tremble. Which makes things a bit more complicated.

"Well... you can use a sewing machine..."

She frowns.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothin'." he sticks it in his pocket.
"Sewing machine?"
Oh yeah! Those exist.
"Are they hard to use?"
Do they require a steady hand?

Yes, unfortunately, they do require a steady hand.

"Does your hand always shake like that? It might be kind of hard to sew if it does..."

Funny how she didn't notice before.

"Mm." he stares at the floor. "Not just the one."

"Oh."

Pause.

Well, this is awkward.

"Maybe you should get a friend to help instead."

"Mm. Yeah." he grins crookedly. "Prob'ly just make do. Don't wanna ask people to do a lot of stuff for me." Because he already does (if not always directly).

Shrug.

His business, his problem.

"Okay."

"Right."

...this conversation should probably end now, right?

"Uh...see ya 'round, I guess."

"Yeah. Say hi to Jeremy for me."

And she's off to pay for her shirt.