Name: I meet with the male in the local flower shop, it's surprisingly easy to find him. I wonder if he knew I was coming and purposely stayed by the roses at the entrance. Approaching him isn't intimidating at all, therefore it's fairly pleasant. When I introduce myself, he doesn't flinch. I'm glad that I didn't frighten him.
Asking my first question feels just as breezy as his reply,
"it's a silly name," he shyly says as his cheeks heat up to a light blush, "but here it goes, I'm Olive. Olive Feo."
Age: With a huff, he breathes out his response rather politely, "I don't look like it of course, but I'm sixteen, my seventeenth birthday is on Christmas Eve...To most people I look Thirteen or something...But I wouldn't lie to you. There is no big reason Miss."
Gender: Olive makes the most adorable expression when this question is asked. I wonder if he gets this a lot. I know I'd be annoyed if constantly asked about my gender. Yet, as we walk off to look at the white variety of roses, he doesn't seem angry in the slightest.
"I'm a male. I mean, I would understand if others think differently...but..." his sentence flows into a whine and we both giggle then.
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Looks: "Well. I'm not tall at all to start with. I look like I haven't even hit puberty yet! So sad...." Olive begins. It seems that he doesn't mind being short. I'm glad he doesn't complain. With this promising start, I wait for some more. Yet, Olive gets sidetracked when a bright yellow butterfly flutters into the store. Instantly, we make it out life goal to catch it.
