Tea delivery, tea enjoyment

The greenhouse was suffocating.

Not from heat, though, it was temperate and carefully regulated, as always. No, Billie felt stifled by something less tangible, like the weight of the place itself. It was too quiet, too pristine, too... heavenly. Every plant shimmered faintly, each leaf and petal so vibrant it looked plucked from a painting. 

Billie frowned down at the small pouch of freshly picked tea leaves clutched in her hand. How had she let herself get tangled into this? Delivering plants like she was some errand runner? Then again, saying no to Dove had never been her strong suit. She stuffed the pouch into the pocket of her jacket, her steps purposeful as she left the greenhouse behind.

---

Jackal’s apartment was a stark contrast to the Heavenly Embassy. Perched on the edge of a cluster of cheap flats in Burrowgatory, it was all chipped paint, mismatched furniture, and a faint scent of cigarettes lingering in the air. Billie felt more at ease here, though she'd never admit it.

She knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the narrow hallway.

“Dove!” she called, her voice sharp as she tried to ignore the curious stares of a couple passing succubuns. “Open up before I change my mind.”

The door creaked open, revealing Dove’s bright, smiling face. “Billie! You’re early.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” Billie pulled the pouch from her jacket, holding it out like she couldn’t wait to be rid of it. “Here. Fresh from your little paradise up there.”

Dove’s face lit up as they took the pouch, cradling it like it was something precious. “You actually picked them yourself?”

Billie shrugged, brushing some imaginary lint off her jacket. “Primrose handed me the tools, said something about quality control. Not like I had a choice.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Dove said, gesturing for Billie to come inside. “Want to stay for tea? I was about to brew some.”

Billie hesitated, glancing down the hall before stepping inside. “Fine. But only because I need something to get the taste of dirt out of my mouth.”

---

Inside, the apartment was cozy in its disarray. Dove had added little touches to make it feel more like home: a few potted plants in the corners, their leaves brushing against the peeling wallpaper, and a couple of colorful cushions scattered across the threadbare couch. The place looked like it had seen better days, but it had a lived-in warmth that reminded Billie of the better moments in her own chaotic past.

“Take a seat,” Dove said, bustling over to the tiny kitchen area. “I’ll get the water boiling.”

Billie flopped onto the couch, sprawling across it like she owned the place. “So, what’s so special about this tea, anyway? Can’t you just grab some from a shop like everyone else?”

“It’s not the same,” Dove said, their voice carrying over the hiss of the kettle. “The tea from the embassy gardens tastes just like the heavenly meadow. It’s... nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic, huh?” Billie said, raising a skeptical brow. “Didn’t think you’d want to remember that place, considering you ran away.”

Dove paused, their hands steadying on the edge of the counter. “It’s complicated. The heavenly meadow wasn’t all bad. There was beauty there- peace. But it was stifling, too. Like being wrapped in cotton so tight you couldn’t breathe.”

Billie snorted. “Sounds like a dream.”

“For some, maybe,” Dove replied, their tone light but tinged with something heavier. “But not for me. I wanted more. And Burrowgatory… it’s messy, but it feels alive, you know?”

Billie didn’t respond, but she found herself glancing around the apartment again, taking in the little mismatched pieces of Dove’s life. Alive. Yeah, maybe that was the word for it.

---

The tea was ready soon enough, Dove setting two mismatched mugs on the coffee table. Steam curled up in delicate spirals, carrying a faintly floral scent that was oddly comforting.

Billie picked up her mug, peering at the pale, golden liquid inside. “This better not taste like grass.”

Dove laughed, their eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just try it. I promise it’s worth it.”

Billie took a hesitant sip, her eyes narrowing as she considered the flavor. It was smooth, earthy with just a hint of sweetness, and surprisingly pleasant.

“Well?” Dove asked, watching her expectantly.

“It’s... not terrible,” Billie admitted grudgingly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Dove said, taking a sip of their own tea. They sighed contentedly, their expression softening as they stared into their mug. “It reminds me of quiet mornings in the meadow. Back before everything got so complicated.”

Billie frowned into her tea, the warmth of the mug grounding her. “You’re not getting all sappy on me, are you?”

“Maybe a little,” Dove admitted with a sheepish smile. “But it’s nice to share this with someone. Most people don’t get it.”

Billie shrugged, taking another sip. “Yeah, well, I’m not most people.”

Dove’s smile widened. “That’s true.

---

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the occasional sound of the city filtering in through the cracked window. Billie found herself relaxing despite herself, the tea warming her from the inside out. It wasn’t often she let herself slow down like this, and she hated to admit how nice it felt.

“So,” Dove said eventually, their tone light. “Are you going to tell me why you really agreed to deliver these?”

Billie stiffened, her mug halfway to her lips. “What are you talking about?”

“You hate the embassy,” Dove said, their gaze steady but kind. “You wouldn’t have gone there unless you had a reason.”

Billie scowled, setting her mug down with a clink. “Maybe I just felt like it, okay? Not everything has to be a big deal.”

Dove tilted their head, their expression thoughtful. “Maybe not. But I think you care more than you let on.”

“Yeah, well, think whatever you want,” Billie muttered, crossing her arms.

Dove just smiled, their eyes softening. “Thank you, Billie. For everything.”

Billie glanced away, a faint flush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all mushy on me.”

Dove laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Don’t worry, I’ll save that for the flowers.”

---

As Billie left the apartment later, the faint taste of tea lingering on her tongue, she found herself glancing back over her shoulder. She’d never admit it, but there was something about Dove’s smile, about the quiet warmth of that cluttered little apartment, that made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Alive. Yeah. Maybe that was it.