Caesar furrows his brows, concentration so intent it’s almost unlike him. Soh isn’t currently home, being out running his little stall, and he takes the time to do what he’s wanted to do. He absolutely won’t let anyone see him, especially not while looking this uncool.

 

It’s Sunday, and he expects that she will show her face again - because she, like him, seems to lack many friends. Not that he feels bad for her or anything; he’s going to kill her one day, but despite all he says he’s at the very least a stickler for the acknowledged rules. Sundays infuriate him in that regard; it’s the only day she’ll visit him, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

 

He always asks why, wonders why, of all places, she chooses to come here. Surely she would be ridiculed for coming all the way out here if those Oz Famiglia members knew of her adventures? So then, what, she risks security to come and see him? He, who is absolutely, most definitely, going to kill her.

 

There’s a low grumble of dissatisfaction, and Caesar takes a moment to stop what he’s doing and look up between the trees. It’s quiet, like it always is. He refuses to call it lonely - because he’s not lonely, he has Soh when he comes back, and he doesn’t mind being alone either. It’s cooler to be that way, right? The lone wolf. Strong, undefeatable, and someone everyone fears. Or, well, they should. But he doesn’t think he’s quite reached that stage. The Oz Famiglia have no concerns with confronting him. He sighs, and looks back down to what he was doing. Why is he doing this? What does he hope to gain? There’s nothing to gain, is there? Nevertheless, his own pride having started this means he can’t stop. He’s used to fiddly things like this, despite how brutish he purposely acts.

 

“Done.” He heaves a deep breath in relief, relaxing as he hangs the item from his fingers.

“Um,”

 

Ceasar almost leaps out of his skin. “What--Where the hell did you come from!?” He asks, tone as aggressive as possible behind his surprise.

“You seemed so focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Fuuka smiles brightly, innocently, and Caesar makes yet another disgruntled sound that surely won’t be the last of the day.

 

“That’s not what I--Whatever, what do you want?” He keeps his hand behind his back, and Fuuka leans a little to the side in some attempt to peer around.

 

“What were you doing?” she asks, “I couldn’t see properly.”

 

“You’re so nosy.” he mutters.

 

“Ah. Um, sorry?” She stands upright again, and tilts her head, looking as apologetic as she does confused.

 

Caesar drags a hand down his face, swallows the noise he was about to make, and lets his hand rest on his chin. “Well,” he begins, eyes looking off elsewhere, “I guess now is as good a time as any.” The musing is of his own, but Fuuka is always listening to his every word intently. As though she is trying to understand him as she keeps him company. “Close your eyes.” When Fuuka does so without questioning it, he laughs. “Why would you so easily close your eyes in front of your enemy just because they told you to?” he questions, “you’re an idiot.”

 

“Should I not have?” she asks, opening her eyes to blink at him. “Besides, it’s Sunday isn’t it? You wouldn’t do anything rash.”

 

Caesar could have done without that last comment; it makes him want to do something just to prove her wrong. He’s rebellious and frightening, damn it! But he lets it go, when he remembers what he is holding delicately in his hand. “No, okay, you’re right, forget it. Just. Close them… again.”

 

“Okay.” She closes them, and waits patiently. She doesn’t move or peek - her level of trust is astounding. Or is it just naivete? Probably both. She’s annoying like that.

 

He steps closer. “Don’t peek.” he warns lowly, despite knowing she won’t - his only response is then a nod of her head. “Don’t move, either.” His hand comes out from behind his back, and he hesitates a moment right in front of her, before he sits what he’s made atop her head. The small white flowers with their yellow center stand out against her hair, along with the green that strings between each of them. If he didn’t have better control of himself, he’d have called it cute aloud.  “There.”

 

He steps back, and immediately averts his eyes so that he doesn’t have to stare at her pure and bewildered expression. Meanwhile her hands move to tap delicately at what was placed on her head. “Is this what you were making?” she asks.

 

“I had time to kill. And a lot of the flowers were around. I was taking a break from training.” He spares a momentary glance in her direction and flusters when he catches sight of the brightest smile he’s seen from her yet.

 

“Thank you!”

 

“It’s not like I did it for you. But I wouldn’t look cool with that kind of thing, would I? It’s… girly.” And you’re the only girl that visits me.
 

Fuuka nods, “right. But I still appreciate it. May I look at it properly now?”

 

“...Do whatever you want.”

 

Permission granted, she gently pries it off the top of her head so that she can admire it fully. “What flower are they?” she questions, not taking her eyes off of the crown. She’s seen these before, or at least ones similar. They were larger and in the flower shop.

 

“Daisies. They grow around here. If you want to know their meaning, then,” he hesitates, “I don’t know.”

 

Fuuka hums, “they’re small and pretty.” she concludes. “It doesn’t matter what they mean.” Maybe someone in town will know. Or one of the Oz famiglia - perhaps Kyrie, he’s really knowledgeable about a lot of things after all.

 

He does know. Of course he knows. But it’s merely a coincidence that the meanings suit her so well. “I’m, uh, glad you like it, I guess?”

 

“You’re really nice, Caesar.” She laughs - it’s a small and light little laugh, and Caesar immediately looks at her defiantly.

 

“Huh!? I’m not nice, I’m going to kill you, idiot!”

 

“Mhm, but not today, right?”

 

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue and looks the other way again. “Fine. Just stay out of my way while you’re here, or I really will.”

 

She puts the flower crown back onto her head and nods, smiling widely, “okay!”

 

“You’re way too happy about this.” He mutters, very much internally accepting his defeat as he goes to retrieve his sword leaned up against a nearby tree. At this rate, the hours she spends here will pass by like minutes - is this really what they mean when they say that time flies when you’re having fun? “Fun…huh?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”