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A florist AU.
“Um, okay,” the guy says. He scratches at his nose, and continues to glance around the store, enraptured, albeit a little awkwardly. Eventually, his gaze lands back on Frank. “Is this your place?”
Nodding, Frank grins (that silly, prideful one that he absolutely cannot help) and opens his arms wide to gesture in a sweeping motion. “Pride and joy,” he quips. “It was my grandmother’s.”