Diligent Brewing

“No. That’s wrong.” Harrow stopped what he was doing, turning slowly to stare at Primrose. The bun haughtily turned his nose up at Harrow’s stare, even going so far as to sniff in displeasure.

Turning his head to look back at the dirt on his gloves, Harrow crouched lower to get a better look at the leaves he was procuring, unsure of how to proceed. He thought he was doing it right, but with the way Primrose was acting, he now wasn’t entirely sure of the process altogether.

After last week’s volunteer job with Dove, Harrow was displeased to note that they wouldn’t be joining him in this excursion; instead he was paired with Primrose himself, and the more time that the bun spent with him, the less he came to like him.

He acted like it was his primary job to be a thorn in Harrow’s side, constantly pointing out everything that Harrow did wrong and demonstrating the right way to pick the tea leaves as if Harrow wasn’t able to correctly do it himself.

All Harrow could do was stand aside with dirt-stained gloves and watch as Primrose worked, the other constantly complaining that no one could do anything right except for him, and it was such a shame that this was his lot in life, but it was his duty to bring a proper education to the succubuns, after all!

Harrow gritted his teeth behind his mask, taking in a long, deep breath. Primrose luckily didn’t seem to notice, too invested in the way he was carefully picking the leaves before tucking them all daintily inside a bag, then thrusting it into Harrow’s hands as he stood.

“There,” said Primrose, that air of haughtiness never leaving him, “that should be enough for a while.” Harrow lifted the bag to stare at it, frowning at the little amount that there was. At most, that would only brew one pot of tea, and he was intent on gathering enough to last Dove for at least a couple of weeks.

“Show me how. Please.” He tilted his head to the side, then glanced at the seemingly undisturbed crops that Primrose had picked through. “Unless you’d like me to figure it out for myself?”

“No. No, that’s quite alright.” Primrose pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. “Fine, fine, I’ll show you. Just… go slow so you don’t mess up the garden, okay?”

“I promise that I will not intentionally mess up the garden.” said Harrow, putting a hand over his chest. Primrose squinted at him, unsure if he was joshing him or not, but ultimately decided that he wasn’t.

“Alright. The main way to pick leaves is to figure out what kind of tea you want to brew first.” Crouching down again, he gestured at the variety of leaves and flowers growing along the statues. “If you want a more bitter tea, you’re going to pick more leaves than buds, but if you want a mixture, you want a two to one ratio most likely. This is for Dove, right?”

“That’s correct,” said Harrow, slightly surprised that Primrose remembered. Even though the other bun rubbed him the wrong way, it was impressive how well he remembered things. Though, he supposed, in his line of work… he had to.

“Okay.” Reaching out, Primrose grasped the base of a leaf and pulled gently, making sure to hold onto the stalk with his other hand so the whole plant wasn’t ripped out. “You want to grip at the base like this, pull the first one or two leaves, and then the bud itself.”

“I see,” said Harrow, paying close attention. “Are the buds sweet?”

“Are the buds-” Primrose stopped, squinting up at Harrow once more. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” He looked thoughtful, his lower lip sticking out. “They are generally sweeter, yes. But if you want a more delicate blend that’s not too strong, you don’t want to put too much in. As I said before, it’s a two to one ratio.”

“Thank you,” said Harrow, genuinely meaning it.

“... sure.” Primrose looked uncomfortable, but Harrow couldn’t quite figure out why. Perhaps it was because he met with other buns who were more prone to sticking up for themselves or lashing back at his unpleasant demeanor?

Nevertheless, Harrow took his words to heart and started to gather the tea leaves carefully, more than happy to go slow so that Primrose could see exactly what he was doing. When he thought he’d gathered enough, he turned to look at Primrose through his mask, finally earning a small bit of praise.

“Good enough, I suppose,” said Primrose, huffing. “I’m sure Dove will be happy with that amount.”

“I’ll be back to help again, if you’d wish it,” said Harrow, standing up and brushing the dirt off his gloves.

“I… would not be opposed,” said Primrose, sniffing as he looked away, crossing his arms. Knowing the conversation was pretty much done, Harrow let out a small laugh as he left the Embassy, more than happy to deliver the bag of freshly picked tea leaves to Dove.

When he arrived, they were more than happy to collect them, raving about the amount he’d actually collected.

“This is so much!” Dove cried, overjoyed at being handed the full bag of tea leaves.

“I didn’t want you to run out,” said Harrow, tilting his head happily as he watched them put it away in the cupboards after being invited inside. “It’s nice to have tea with friends, after all.”

“Yes, it very much is,” said Dove, beaming as they clasped their hands together in happiness. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, really…”

“I told Primrose that I would return to help him if he wished it.”

“Oh, that sounds delightful,” said Dove, the smile on their face only growing. “I wish I could have seen his face.”

“It was definitely a treat,” said Harrow, unable to stop the laughter rolling out from his throat. It was too funny to think about.