ATOQ: Florence's Valentine's Special 2017

>>ROUTE 3.

It’s twenty to five and you are standing in front of your apartment contemplating murder. You honestly didn’t know what you expected this idiot.

“Florence?” You grind out through your teeth.

“Yes, my dear Keiichi?” The azure-haired girl responds sweetly, dressed in her decorated Stonewolf High uniform. She’s the very image of grace and beauty as demanded by the exclusive private academy and you want to shoot her in the face.

You make a sweeping gesture to the ridiculous display at your front door. “What the fuck is this?” you growl.

“You will have to be specific, my dear Keiichi.” Florence responds, tilting her head. She actually has the sheer audacity to sound perplexed. “There are several objects your gesture could have referred to. For example, the paint job on your front door. Some of it is peeling. You should apply for a repaint while you still have the chance.”

A vein twitches in your forehead. “Don’t bullshit me, Florence.”

“Again with the uncouth language.” Florence sighs. Now she’s pretending to be dejected. “This is why women avoid you.”

Enough is enough. You slam your foot on the ground and point to the offending stacks of garbage, which are neatly arranged at the edges of your front door, resembling a gigantic building block set. “Why are there this many boxes of chocolates in front of my house?” You snarl, your magic circuits flaring to life.

“Why, because I ordered them to be put there.” Florence replies nonchalantly. She smiles at you and red gathers at the corner of your vision.

“That’s not a proper answer and you know it.”

“You are no fun. If you must ask…” Florence begins, playing with her manicured nails, “It’s because I received far too many gifts this Valentine’s Day and I needed to offload some.”

Why would Florence, a girl, receive gifts on—you suddenly remember that Florence is British and it all makes sense. Even so…

“And thought I was a good choice?” You say, disbelievingly.

“How strange.” Florence muses, raising her gloved hands to her chin. She closes her eyes and thinks, still wearing that disgusting smirk of hers. “I thought adolescent boys enjoyed receiving chocolates from a girl.”

“Not when they’re treated like a garbage bin, damn it!” You gnash your teeth. “How did you get this many chocolates in the first place?”

“I mentioned it, did I not? I receive a lot of gifts during Valentine’s Day, most from my home country. There is no romantic intent behind them; most of the gifters wish to curry status and favour from me.”

“Have you ever considered telling them to stop?” You groan, shaking your head.

“Several times, but it would be dreadfully impolite. Unlike you, maintaining my image as a gracious host is part of my duties.” Florence smirks. “It is also mildly amusing to keep these amateurs tailing along, allowing them to believe their actions have actual impact. Lastly, some of these gifts can be exchanged for favours of my own.”

“Then take your gifts back and do that.” You growl.

Florence appears to ruminate over this decision, then shakes her head. “I think not.”

“Why?”

“I simply do not have the intention. If I did want these gifts, I would not have placed them here in the first place.”

It’s getting more and more tempting to strangle this infuriating girl. Florence must have sensed your intentions, because she checks the expensive watch on her right wrist and smiles. “Oh my, look at the time. In ten minutes, I have an urgent appointment with a member of the Rutherford branch family. It seems this will be farewell, Keiichi. Do enjoy the chocolates. Their taste should be far above of what you usually expect. If you don’t like the taste, you can always sell them for money.”

“Come back here, dammit!” You yell, shaking a fist, as the azure-haired heiress briskly walks towards the stairwell and disappears from sight. “Don’t unload all your junk on me, Rutherford! My house isn’t a fucking garbage dump!”