Chapter Text
The door to the bedroom of Ignis Scientia, manager of one of the top brothels in Lucis and terror before his third cup of coffee, was sensible and plain. There were no plaques on the door like those of the main suites on the second floor, and none of the usual gilding or drapery that made the rooms in Shiva’s Secret catch the eye. It could be, and often was, mistaken as a storage closet.
Noctis Caelum hesitated, knuckles an inch from the polished wood.
“I can see your shadow under the door, Noct,” drawled a low voice from within. Noctis cursed silently and turned the handle.
Ignis was sitting at his desk, poring through a sheaf of paperwork in the light of his open window. He wore a blue silk robe that slid down his shoulders to pool at his arms, and his thigh-high stockings were perfectly lined and smooth. Noct, who tore his tights whenever he could be bothered to wear them, felt a sting of bitterness at the flawless way Ignis could look both under-dressed and put-together at the same time.
Dishabille, Ignis had said once. The perfect blend of carelessness and craft. The most Noct could hope for himself was a half-hearted attempt at disheveled.
“Don’t stand there, Noct,” Ignis said. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “While I can’t say I don’t enjoy your company, I know there’s little that can bring you here before noon.”
“You know, you can say What’s up? like a normal person,” Noct said, closing the door. Ignis made a disapproving sound and shrugged. “So, don’t get mad.”
“I’m perfectly calm, Noctis,” Ignis said. He signed the bottom of a form and filed it in his out-tray.
“It’s the Flower Shop.”
Ignis’ hand froze. Noct fiddled with the folded piece of paper in his pocket, and pulled it out. Ignis was still facing his paperwork, but Noct had the impression that he wasn’t actually looking at it anymore. Not a good sign.
“Please,” Ignis said. “Tell me that it’s, oh, infested with termites, or behind the code for fire safety laws…”
“Okay, first? Tone it down, Specs.” Noct was the only employee in Shiva’s Secret who could talk to Ignis like this, which was why he’d been volunteered to deliver the news in the first place. “Second, they’re starting up a new special.”
“Really? How delightful.” Ignis held out a hand. Noct passed the paper over to him. Ignis held it like he would hold a dead rat, pinched between forefinger and thumb and held as far from his body as possible.
“Ah,” he said. “They’re serving cakes.”
Noct squirmed. The Flower Shop was the second top brothel in Lucis, which Ignis probably wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t just down the street and run by Gladiolus Amicitia, the latest in a long line of men and women who’d run the brothel since its first iteration several hundred years before. It had originally been a legitimate florist’s, but when an Amicitia built up a second floor and turned it into a house of ill repute, the locals didn’t bother changing the name. It was and always would be the Flower Shop, a staple in Insomnia’s night-life, and the Amicitias had embraced the theme so thoroughly that they even named their children after flowers.
When Gladiolus took over, he decided they needed to expand. So he bought up some land at the end of the street, right in view of Shiva’s Secret, and built a three-story brothel complete with awnings, window-boxes bursting with blooms, and a wrought-iron sign over the door framed with ivy.
It looked pretty cool, in Noct’s opinion, but he knew better than to tell Ignis. Ever since construction started a few years ago, Ignis had been clear in his opinion on Gladio and his business. So he’d expanded the kitchen in Shiva’s, set up a second café for the more legitimate side of their brothel, and created clever hidden menus for the business he ran in the upper floors.
And now, the Flower Shop was selling cakes.
“This is a deliberate attack,” Ignis said, dropping the paper menu into his trash bin. He sat in fury for a moment, staring dimly at the painting of the brothel’s imaginary Madam that hung over his desk, and snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Noctis, do you have any clients this afternoon?”
“It was gonna be my day off,” Noctis said. Ignis stood and took off his robe. He hung it up on a hook and opened his closet door wide.
“Wonderful,” he said. “Get dressed to go out. We need to stop by a florist’s. A proper florist’s.”
Noct felt a stirring of disquiet in his stomach. “Uh, why’s that, Specs?”
“Because,” Ignis said, whipping out a magnificent dove-grey vest and a light purple dress-shirt. “We are going to hold a flower festival.”
-
“Say that again.”
Prompto Argentum stepped from one foot to another, hands twisted behind his back. His new maid costume, part of Gladiolus Amicitia’s vision for the new cake and tea special, was a little tight at the waist, and the stockings itched.
“A flower festival, Gladio,” he repeated. “The workers, right, they all have flowers on their wrists that have different meanings, and customers have to buy flowers at the door and, and they match them up… I mean, it sounds kind of cute—“
“It’s cutting into our territory,” Gladio said. He was standing at the railing of the third floor of the Flower Shop, right outside his office door. The office was barely used except as a place to throw paperwork that only got done in a frenzy at the last minute, but there were crystal and glass flowers trailing up the frame, with gladiolus blossoms at the top. Prompto looked at them, rather than at Gladio himself, who was muttering darkly.
“You did do the cake thing,” Prompto said.
“Yes, but that’s not… that’s cake.” Gladio made a sweeping gesture. “And Shiva’s Secret? The hell does that mean? It’s just a, a whorehouse with delusions of grandeur.”
“Not like us, though,” Prompto said. He snuck a glance at Gladio, who was watching him warily.
“Alright,” Gladio said. “But this flower shit is obviously meant to undermine us. A flower festival? That bastard. When is it starting?”
Prompto twisted his skirt, quietly wishing that there’d been enough tuxedos to go around. “Uh. Tomorrow night?”
Gladio leaned on the railing, steepling his fingertips.
“Prompto,” he said.
“Uh, right here, big guy.”
“You’re new in town, yeah?”
Prompto shrugged. Technically, he wasn’t. Before he applied to work at the Flower Shop, he’d been hustling for a pimp on the south side of town. None of the clients he had there were the kind who visited places like Shiva’s or the Flower Shop, so for all intents and purposes, Prompto was a new face. It took him only a few weeks to be one of Gladio’s top employees, and he was pretty sure that one of his regulars was a member of the city council.
“Sure,” he said.
“Great,” said Gladio. He smiled and clapped a large hand on his shoulder. “Tell me, Prompto. You ever been to a festival before?”