crop of passion

"Coffee? Yes ma'am!"

They tried to not to think much as they talked. Just spit words like rolodex and perhaps Opal would catch on eventually, Sampson holding the dress with a tender amazement. In fact, it was with pride that they heard that Sardonyx had indeed made it. It had that Crowe tough, they could tell in each stitch and inseam of the gown -- it was like holding a relic. 

Of fashion! 

Something so valuable and something so gorgeous, Sampson rubbed the pack of their palm of the fabric and grinned, just a little. That sounds like my mom, always hardworking. As if it would kill her to slow down a little, they had hated it as a child but admired only as an adult; it was something Sampson wanted to know. It drove a wedge between them something slightly in a way neither of them could understand, but they always wanted know how to crop just a portion of that passion. 

"It's the dress I wore when I married Potato," she started, and Sampson's face fell an inch. 

"Oh," dear, part of them wished they hadn't been able to date it now. Slightly embarrassed it wasn't the seventy third, but even more so that it had meant something so much grander. They held eye contact with Opal, making sure to caress the gown careful. A wedding dress; they had grown more and more solemn in their soul. It was only human to grieve for her, and for Potato, the spirit of the gown kissing at their fingertips. She asks if they can fix it and there's no hesitation in their agreement. 

"Of course I will," and there was a bit fear in it, sure. Sampson was no Sardonyx, and there was a lump in their throat imagining if they frayed this gown. Opal would kill them in an instant, and their mom would somehow kill them in even less time. She was family, Opal, and she was business, and she was someone to impress, and Sampson had yet to get comfortable with that idea before being signed into the Stylists. 

Still, "you know," they began to gently drape the gown back over the white counter. Moving their eyes from Opal and envisioning the job ahead, "we don't just wear clothes, Miss Earnest, we wear those memories too." The shoulder of the gown bunches up against the buzzing computer, the bushes of fabric falling off the table edge in a cascade, "that love is always going to be in this dress." 

Almost matter of factly, looking over their shoulder once more to Opal. It was something Sardonyx always told them, and she had probably passed it onto Opal as well. Her late husband would always be in these threads, whether that be comforting or haunting, and the love, and children, and wedding rings - it would always tweed in those fibers.

All in the midst, when Opal held this dress she would be held by her husband. 

Whether she moved on or not, Sampson was in no point to be comfortable helping her in that decision. They remembered the pains of growing up with only Sardonyx, busy as she may be and caring as she may be, but Sampson knew more that there existed Ky somewhere. And they had hoped Opal existed in his life and not in those memories. 

"So," with a heavy exhale, they breathed a warmer life into the air, "first plan of business, coffee - always." Smiling once more and not wanting to dwell on this too much, Opal had her own recovery plan and Sampson knew they had no business getting in the middle of it. There's almost a strut in their walk, the air of the room living in each step as they walked to the office corner. "And Miss Earnest, I'm leaving the caffeine out," jokingly exasperated in their tone, "trust me, I can see those roots and tell they've been stressing you to death!"

Besides, the coffee is always healthier black. 

Sampson gave a nod to the chairs in the small round table before digging into the overhead counters, pulling out an old gold crested mug. "That better not be Ky greying you out, mom would take her ass to One and do- I don't know what," spoken in small talk. Sampson always rambled too much, talked too much. 

They fumbled with the buttons, three clicks and a pull before placing the mug onto the tray. Sampson always forgets to clean the filter before hand, and panicked to collect the grinds in time. Of course, the distraction of Opal Earnest existing in the room didn't help, gnawing at Sampson's need to prove. 

To impress. 

Fresh coffee burned their nose and they turned that back to it waiting, leaning on the counter to face Opal, "how's Ky been doing anyways?"