Evening Stroll (Hamlet)|FINISHED

[erin]

Classes seemed to drag today, although Ophelia wasn't quite sure why. Normally they seemed to fly by but today was just horrid. The guys were pumped for the weekend game and the girls were gossiping about the latest parties and hook up hints. Disgusting. Ophelia thought as she continued driving down the road. One place she hadn't been in a while and that was one of her favorite places was the Botanical Gardens down in the Bronx. She didn't have classes tomorrow, nor did she have work tonight so she could stay out as long as she wanted, and getting away from home for a bit seemed favorable.

She made the last turn before pulling into a park spot in. Ophelia grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and shut the door to her BMW. She walked into the building and went to buy her ticket, and realizing she had forgotten her student id. Now she had to fork over twenty bucks instead of eighteen. Why did everything in New York have to be so overpriced? Really anything was overpriced in America. Back in Denmark, or even France for that matter, you could find steals everywhere. Then again, Ophelia knew all the places to look.

Ophelia grabbed her ticket before heading into the massive gardens, trying to find something interesting. As much as she knew flowers were inanimate objects, she couldn't help but think of how easy they had it. The simply were planted, catered to, and then adored. All they had to do was sit there and look beautiful! Then when their time came they just died. No complicated process or prolonging survival or causing any pain or suffering to anyone they knew; they just died. And that was the end of it. If only life where that easy.

As she continued to walk, she made her way past all the familiar fragrances. She could pick out each individual one almost without a flaw. Sometimes it was a bit odd home one person could differentiate flower scents but that was just Ophelia. As Ophelia passed by the roses, she noticed a certain special someone that she liked quite a bit. "I didn't know business men enjoyed flowers." She teased while feeling her face heat up a bit and the crimson curse cross her cheeks. Of all the people to meet at the Botanical Gardens...what were the chances she lucked out?

[hamlet]

It was a long day. Several hours of looking over data, documents, contracts, and all sorts of other papers. It was work he was good at, work he could have sworn he enjoyed at one point. The deals he landed were notorious for getting several companies out of jams. It was why they called him a prodigy, a prince--a suitable title for the son of his honorable, famous, now deceased, father. Now the work was simply mind numbing. He simply did what he did best mechanically, indifferently, working off a slight hangover from the night before.

His secretary came into his office concerned since he'd been walking all day. Truthfully, he'd rather work than go home. Going home would mean sitting in his restless thoughts, buried in another bottle, wishing he could move himself into action. But his secretary insisted and she was right.

He didn't go home. He drove around in his Mercedes Benz wondering why he was still in New York. How easy it would be to just keep driving, going somewhere else, anywhere else. But he knew he was bound to this place, per his mother's earnest request and his own superstitious anxieties of what would be left undone if he simply ran away from the things he needed to face...

No, he didn't go home. Instead, his destination was the Botanical Gardens. It was a slightly impulsive decision. Sure, the garden was relaxing and soothing. But the garden reminded him of Ophelia as well, a woman he met through her father and brother.

And what a woman she was.

Through her father, who works at Hamlet Enterprises, Harry and Ophelia were able to speak with each other quite a few times. The more he talked with her, the more he saw her, the more his heart ran away from him. He was completely enthralled by her. And it was within knowing that she liked flowers, the impulse to visit the Botanical Gardens manifested.

As he browsed the various flowers, taking in their colors and scents, he heard that sweet familiar voice. Ophelia.

Harry turned to her and smiled charmingly, his grey eyes contrasting his mostly black ensemble of slacks and suit jacket. "Ophelia," He chuckled a bit as he approached her. Referring to the flowers and subtly to her, he said, "Business men are fully capable of recognizing beauty when they see it. You don't think I'm qualified?" He smiled, awaiting an answer from Ophelia.

[erin]

Her heart leaped when she heard his smooth voice. Harry was just magnificent. She wasn't sure what it was about him; whether it was his maturity, his robustness, the way he carried himself with pride. There was so much about him that Ophelia loved. No one had ever managed to make her feel the way she felt about him. He was just so perfect to her. Ophelia would gladly give up everything for him, and if she couldn't be with him; she wouldn't know what to do with herself. She would probably end up in a downward spiral.

"Be that as it may," She began while turning to face the beautiful array of roses. "There are also exceptions." Ophelia finished by only turning her head to look at him, giving him a wink as well. It wasn't like Ophelia was a promiscuous young girl, but she knew what she wanted and she wanted Harry. If she had ended up talking to any other guy, she would've acted very distant and uninterested in whatever he had to say. That was how she acted at least ninety percent of the time. Ophelia had this gut feeling that Harry returned some sort of feelings for her. They did after all manage to find ways to talk to each other when they could.

Ophelia then turned her head to look at the flowers again. She was amazed at how many different color roses this garden had managed to hold. Between the common red, pink, yellow, and white but then the not as common such as orange and lavender pigmented buds. Then she realized how close the day of love and affection was. What a perfect way to strike up a conversation.

Whilst keeping her eyes on the roses and pretending to be completely devoted to them, she said, "You know Valentine's Day is just around the corner. Have anything planned?" It wasn't like she would've cared had he had plans but she was almost hoping he wouldn't. Even though he was a very important asset to Hamlet Enterprises, he had to have his own days off right? This might be the only chance she has to talk to him until the Lord only knows when. She was going to milk this moment for all its worth.

[hamlet]

Harry was suspended in the moment, when she turned to look at him. Outwardly, he was composed, but inwardly, his mind raced. Raced forward into the depths of her beautiful and bright eyes. And it was in that moment that he realized that in a way, she was his medicine. When he looked at her, his anxieties faded for a while. Maybe this was the reason why he felt compelled to find ways to keep running into her. And although she was young, and although she wasn't the woman his mother (hell, even his father when he was alive) would approve of...there was a light spirit within her. A light, free spirit that melded the dark, hollow thoughts in his own mind.

But no, there would be no point in pursuing her. He had no idea what her father thought of him. But if her father consulted with Harry's uncle long enough, Harry wouldn't be inclined to have too much confidence. Besides, what would be the point in engaging her in his troubles?

But he longed for her. There was no doubting it.

Harry watched her look at the flowers again, and he glanced at the vibrant colors as well. He was tired of being indecisive, tired of being hesitant to act. Perhaps he wouldn't get another chance such as this. Perhaps if his dreams, or rather, nightmares of his father foreshadowed something true, Chandler's plans would prevent him from ever seeing her again. Perhaps it was time for him to finally take a step forward.

"Valentine's day." He repeated. "Hmm." He stepped next to her, close, and looked at the same flowers she stared at. Finally he sighed, "Oh I don't know, I might have something in the works. The thing is, I'm terrible at coming up with good Valentines Day plans." He looked at her, now only seeing her profile, framed by red locks. "Maybe you can help me. What's your idea of a good Valentine's Day?" He asked, his eyes slightly mischievous.

His actions didn't quite match his thoughts. At the last minute, Harry decided to test the waters, see where she stood. Internally, he scolded himself for not being forward. I guess we'll see what happens.

[erin]

Ophelia could quickly feel the heat rushing to her cheeks as the color was surely brightening. He was seriously asking her, little Ophelia, for her own opinion. Surely that was put blatantly enough for her to somewhat suspect what cogs were churning in his mind. "Well," She began while tapping a finger to her chin, as if she were deep in thought. Ophelia then pursed her lips to the side and turned her head to look at him, and his now closeness to her.

"I'd say anything that didn't involve running into people from the university; that's for sure." She chuckled a bit at her own response. She would give anything to not have to deal with the sluts, the jocks, the know-it-alls, and other annoying stereotypes. "It would either have to be something entirely fun-filled or something very sophisticated. Maybe a trip to the zoo or Coney Island and if not that then a classy dinner of some sort."

Both of those options did sound very favorable right now. It didn't seem like something outrageous like having a guy spend a fortune on some expensive jewels, nor did it seem too trashy as if to spend the day club hopping. Ophelia didn't want Harry to fuss over her although she wouldn't argue if he did. It was nice every once in a while to have a guy that understood how a woman's mind worked. Harry of all people must have had a lot of experience with women since he was after all almost ten years her senior.

Then she turned to fully look at him and said with a smile, "Hope that set your mind straight. I'm sure any girl would be lucky to spend a day with you."

[hamlet]

Harry nodded as he listened intently to her answer. All of the options matched her personality perfectly...fun, adventurous, classy. He could have almost predicted it, if he really thought about it instead of asking. But he was glad he asked, just to hear it from her mouth. Besides, he hadn't been to Coney Island in years. He imagined the amusement attractions against the backdrop of water, and being there with Ophelia, forgetting about everything. If only he could forget.

But there was only one way to make imagination reality.

Harry smirked charmingly at her when she talked about luck. With some vulnerability in his eyes, he said, "You think so, huh? Well...what if I told you that I think those ideas are perfect...only, and I mean only, if I do them with you?" Harry knew at times when he goes for things like this, he could be a bit daring and forward, but at this point he was willing to take that risk. "...because I think...I'd be the luckiest man if I'm able to spend the day with you."

He gazed at her with confidence, but still preparing for anything. "So, unless you have plans...I promise we'll stay away from the university crowd," he said with a smile.

[erin]

Ophelia couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry actually thought he'd be lucky to spend time with her? It was a dream come true, perhaps a Saint Valentine miracle. There was seriously a chance that she would be spending the with Harry Chandler. It was too good to be true. Ophelia was half tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming, but somehow she managed to know this wasn't a dream. Here she had been at the Botanical Garden, expecting a day to herself when she saw him amongst the colorful array of roses.

Then she had managed to come to the conversation of Valentine's day and everything was working out just fine. Now Ophelia turned to look at him, still sharply dressed in his business attire. He always looked his best no matter what. Sometimes she wondered what he saw in her that would make him bother to talk to her or attempt to. She was middle class, and he could have his choice in any woman that he wanted. Yet, he chose to speak to a young girl.

"Really, you flatter me much too much." She chuckled a bit while looking into his eyes. "I don't have any plans though. I'd really love to spend the day with you too." Ophelia gave him a ear to ear grin that caused herself to blush. She really was such a child compared to him. Sometimes she wondered why he wasn't embarrassed spending time with her seeing as she was so immature at times.

Ophelia bit her bottom lip a bit while thinking. Would she be able to escape the house without her brother or father knowing? It was more of less her brother she was worried about, seeing as he had warned her about Harry before they had met. He wasn't going to stop her from being happy. If Harry here made her day all that much brighter, than how could he insist that she shouldn't be around him. Harry was mature and responsible so he would know better than to take advantage of her. Right?

[hamlet]

Harry watched her closely as she reacted to his invite, trying to keep himself from holding his breath. Most of the time he did feel like an actor in a play, putting on a persona for the entertainment of himself and to fool others, to hide behind his darker plans and thoughts. He felt like a part of a play here, but this time it felt exhilarating. He was a part of the suspense, part of the swirling emotions that dwell when an actor preforms a monologue just right. The kind of performances that moves audiences for one reason and one reason only--it wasn't acting, it was revealing the truth about something.

Harry smiled when Ophelia let out a small laugh and accepted his invitation. "That's great, Ophelia. I'm really looking forward to it," He said sincerely. She seemed so flattered and humbled at his attempt to ask her out, he was almost baffled by it. Sure, Harry was fully aware of his status, much more aware than he'd like to be at times. Despite being confined mostly to those in his family and a few friends still linked to the business, he would like to think he was a down-to-earth kind of person. Someone honorable, and accessible, like his father. Even if this were not true, Harry want to show Ophelia this side of himself, to make her believe that he really cared for her, to make her believe that she is the most beautiful woman in Harry's eyes.

He noticed Ophelia's expression change, a bemused look that made Harry pause. He gazed at her, concerned and asked, "Hey, what's on your mind?"

[erin]

Ophelia almost completely disregarded his first statement and then realized her expression was giving away more than she would've liked to. "Oh its nothing. Just hoping my brother won't be home and my father will probably have work to tend to." Something made her wish she hadn't had told him that. Maybe he might just back out which she really would hate if he did decide to cancel all because of her overbearing father and extremely overprotective brother.

She then looked at her watch to see the time. It was, sadly, getting late. However she didn't want to leave. Though she could feel herself starting to get a bit restless. Ophelia also had to do quite a bit of work for biology. Curse the daft teachers that punish everyone when a few students begin to misbehave. They obviously didn't believe in treating each person as an individual.

So, she then tried to think of some topics to prolong spending time with him. "So what is your favorite kind of flower?" It was a somewhat random topic given the last direction of the conversation, but Ophelia could talk about flowers for ages. Her opinion was that they were just like people in a sense. They were all different and need to be treated differently for them to reward you as well. It was also a nice way to change the topic in case Harry began to have any doubts due to the nature of her brother and father.

[hamlet]

(OOC--slight godmodding. I'll ask for permission from you here. Let me know Ophelia if this isn't okay and I'll edit promptly)

Harry furrowed his brow and nodded slowly with understanding. Her father. Her brother. "I see," he said, internally reprimanding himself for not thinking about that before asking her out.

Harry was curious now, and wondered what Ophelia's family really thought of him. He also wanted to know how many of those thoughts were influenced by his own uncle. Did they think him mad? Cruel? Emotionally irrational because he wouldn't let go of his dead father's memory after two months? No, more like two weeks. Might as well have been two days once his uncle decided to take the reigns and desecrate his father's assets. Maybe they thought all of these things. But what did it matter? What did any of it really matter?

Ophelia brought him out of his thoughts by quickly changing the subject. Harry didn't really want to let the subject go but it was probably best. He assured himself that he'd have plenty of opportunities to get to know Ophelia's family better and their thoughts about him. Harry took breath to speak but then hesitated, as another smile crept on his face.

"Here, I'll show you." He offered his hand and led her through the paths of the garden. "I must admit, I haven't really thought about it much. But there's one that came to mind." He had seen them on the way in. Finally they stopped at a section of beautifully curated Iris flowers, their royal purple hue vibrant and alive.

Harry let go of her hand and laughed a bit as he took a closer look at them. "I actually have a story about these." He turned to Ophelia and said, "So, my mother decided to make this big extravagant party for my tenth birthday." It wasn't exactly fond memories. Harry always suspected she produced those over-the-top productions for attention. "People I knew, family I knew, people I didn't know...everyone was there. And the place was decorated like a royal palace. These deep purple flowers, is what she chose. I actually didn't like them at all since, well...I guess I didn't think they were exactly masculine but I wasn't the one to dishonor my mother really so I..." He laughed. "Well, I dealt with it. That is until my father sensed my disapproval and told me what they meant. Faith, valor, and wisdom. Now, really, I don't know if he was just making that up or what to make me feel better," He grinned slightly, amused at the memory. "But it was something special. Kind of stuck with me."

He walked up to her again saying, "Now to turn the question around on you. What is your favorite flower?" His tone was light, engaged, free. "I bet you won't be able to pick just one. Not exactly an easy question for Ms. Knowles, I assume." He added playfully.

[erin]

(OOC: It's okay don't worry.)

She was a bit shocked when he took her hand but that wasn't something she would object to. They then came to the gorgeous Iris flowers. They certainly were something and had to have been one of Ophelia's favorites, out of her many. She then listened intently to his story intently. When he finished she couldn't help but smile. His mother did seem like a sweet person and she would've loved to meet his father. "No your father was right. Its also quite fitting that most irises are purple. A color showing nobility. They also say if you paint a room purple that it boosts a child's imagination and the creativity in an artist..." Then she cut herself off.

"Sorry I'm talking much too much." A blush crossed her face as she then listened to him asking her the very question she had asked him moments ago.

She bit her bottom lip a bit and looked over towards the iris flowers, as if they were going to gift her an answer. "That is a very hard one indeed." Ophelia gave him a smile and then wandered off a bit, in her own little world trying to at least think of an answer. With a turn of her head, the answer then hit her. With a slight frown on her face it then turned to a soft smile. Her feet lead her a little bit further till she hit the precious miniature blue flowers. "Forget-me-nots." She loved them for so many reasons. Their simple beauty, their meaning, and her own mother's love for them.

Time and time again when she was at the florist shop, she would always sneak a small stem of forget-me-not flowers in each person's bouquet. It was a signature thing of her to do and most of the time they looked beautiful paired with just about everything. Ophelia could vividly remembering venturing out with her mother back in Denmark and going to the florist there. Her mother would always pick out the freshest and perfect forget-me-nots. She would mix the blues, purples, and whites in a perfect assortment. Occasionally she would add rosemary or sweet violets. Then there they would sit on the dining room table, in a beautifully decorated vase. That was a tradition Ophelia had carried with her to New York, despite her father insisting she not.

[hamlet]

Harry listened to her analysis and smirked a bit at her apology. "No, you're fine," he said, reassuringly, wanting her to continue. He watched her as she mulled over the question he asked, and as she went in to thoughtful pondering, so did Harry. He watched her, digging his hands casually in his slacks again, admiring not the beauty of the flowers, but her beauty. Even the way she walked captivated him. And he wondered...now at ease, now knowing that she accepts his advances...now he wondered, no, he questioned. What would come of this ...'relationship' if it were to grow into anything at all?

Harry dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, thinking it irrational. Why put a limit on love? On longing? Despite his emotional and mental sense of eventual misfortune, Harry decided he would not have any of that within his pursuits for Ophelia.

Finally she spoke, as she settled on the blue array of stems and petals. He smiled, amused by the name. He merely glanced at the flowers before focusing his grey eyes on Ophelia again. He said, "They're beautiful," as if speaking about her. He approached her again and said, "So how did you get into all of this?" he gestured around him, referring to the flowers, with his hand. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I actually think its...pretty fitting that you're so interested in flowers like this but...I'm just curious." It's fitting because beauty gravitates to beauty it seemed. Perhaps that was his answer.

[erin]

Even though he said that she was fine, she still blushed. Ophelia still felt weak in the knees around him and tried her hardest to keep her cool, and to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. Then she listened as his smooth voice rang through her ears again. He asked how she got into the whole adoring flowers and all that sort. Honestly, she wasn't sure how he thought it was so fitting. A hobby was a hobby and being a florist was just one of her's. It also took her a second to think of how she got addicted to the perfumes and being around the myriad of buds and blossoms.

"My mother." She stated it simply with a smile on her face as she turned to look at Harry. "She always liked flowers and I always went with her to the florist. I guess its more or less a connection I feel with her now that she's gone." Despite the fact that Ophelia felt her heart grow heavy, she couldn't help but smile. She was around her two greatest loves right now; flowers and Harry. Her mother was probably happy for her somewhere up in Heaven. Her mother was the only person that ever understood her and approved of anything she had done no matter what it was. She also always supported her no matter what she had dream. Now she really missed her mother in this moment.

As she finished her little response, she looked at Harry. "Anyway that's enough about me. Any secrets you'd like to share?" Her tone was a bit flirtatious but utterly honest. Ophelia didn't know much about him despite the fact that he was probably one of the most mature, responsible, and sophisticated man she knew. Not to mention probably the most physically appealing. He was handsome and much, much more. However it would be much to embarrassing for her to ever think those things. But she couldn't help herself from doing such. How she would love to be in a steady relationship with Harry. If only...

[hamlet]

Harry nodded with complete understanding to her answer, comparing it to his feelings for his father. It was an answer that confirmed the emotional connection he felt for her just a little bit more. And to see her smile afterwards, Harry couldn't help but return the gesture, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He wasn't sure if Ophelia was smiling for the same reason he was, but it didn't matter.

Ophelia then asked him another question, to which he tilted his head, perplexed. Letting out a bit of a laugh he asked, "Secrets?" If only she knew. Then again, perhaps she did. Maybe even she knew that everyone, no matter how great they appear to be on the outside, has secrets. And of course, he was focusing so much on getting inside her world that he didn't even think about letting her into his. So...where to begin?

"Secrets, secrets...well, for starters, I would love to leave New York to go...well, anywhere... I like riding anything that's fast, with an engine and wheels. I sometimes drive around the city when I want to escape and think after work. It's kind of how I ended up here. I was thinking about you." He paused for a second, standing closely in front of her. His eyes looked directly into hers, with a sort of tenderness, as he gingerly took his hand and slowly moved some strands of bright hair behind her ear. It was a cautious, gentle touch. Removing his hand, he then continued, his voice conversational but his expression still with a hint of longing.

"Not really a scoop for the National Enquirer to pick up on, though." A smirk. "Although people might think I'm a bit crazy at times, I'm not exactly a barrel of secrets,"

Harry looked up at her, hoping she wouldn't read too much into his response. She might just think he's trying too hard to be normal. Trying to hide the actual barrel of secrets that he opened every time he reached the bottom of a bottle. He wanted her to love him, as irrational as that sounds...as they didn't even know each other that well. But he wanted her to love him and to believe that he loved her. And revealing what really goes on his his mind would not help his desires.

[erin]

A smile crept on her lips as he she listened to him speak once more. A blush soon joined her face as he mentioned that he was thinking of her when he came to the gardens today. The feeling of his fingertips brushing the hair that was in her face behind her ear sent a spark of electricty through her spine. "Well I'm sure you're not crazy. It may be a bit unbelievable that Harry Chandler has no secrets to share with the world with all of the enterprise dramas, but it is normal. Sometimes people don't have a lot to share." Ophelia shrugged.

She turned on her heels and started walking a bit further down the line of flowers, not really paying attention to them although her eyes staring at the array of petals could fool an onlooker. Her mind was elsewhere onto where to take the conversation.

"Getting away from New York would be nice though. I mean, not having to be caught up in the city life. Just running off to some secluded beach or to a foreign cabin nestled in the mountains onlooking all that nature has to offer..." Ophelia started while her eyes didn't turn to his, in fear of him catching her blush once more. Butterflies felt like they were distorting her inerds in unfamiliar ways as this chance meeting with Harry prolonged.

With another sweet smile on her face, she turned to meet back to where Harry stood and said, "Now you're making me wish I'd gone to school abroad to be away from all this."

Ophelia did miss being in Denmark. She felt so detached from her mother and if not for the florist shop she worked at or the Botanical Gardens to visit, she would most likely feel like she's lost all memories of her mother. That was something she didn't want to do. Her eyes then stayed on Harry as she tilted her head to the side as if trying to figure out what was going through his mind. There was something he was hiding from her, but all in good time she guessed.