The homunculus stood on his back porch, hands upon his hips and a trowel in one hand. The sun was up, but the air was still crisp. It would be a good morning for gardening. The broccoli, cabbage, and onions were ready to be transplanted outside, these sprouts among the first that would occupy his garden. Ezra carefully descended down the steps, moving towards the garden box. He was garbed in more worn-out clothes, scuffed shoes and twill pants. His button-down shirt was rolled up past his elbows, and an apron was fastened around his waist.

Ezra knelt at the edge of his garden box and, with his trowel, began to dig a hole into which the sprouts would be buried. When one hole was filled, he'd shift to the next bare patch of soil, and repeat the process. Gardening was a peaceful practice for him… mind numbingly peaceful. Miss Charlotte had never seen the appeal, but she seemed well-pleased with the results. Ezra hummed to himself and continued working.

Maybe he'd make her a cake, when he was through. Something small and decadent. He'd have to wait to be sure she was home, though. Last time he tried to bring her food-- a quiche, to be specific-- he'd gone up up her unit, knocked on the door and… was confronted by none other than Charlotte's latest romantic interest.

This other young woman seemed nice enough… a pretty, brunette thing with the most peculiar eyes… as if he was one to talk. She had an old way of speaking, too. There want really any other way to explain it. She just sounded… old. When one was three centuries old, you began to be able to hear these things. Something in the way she spoke made Ezra nostalgic.

He could never bring himself to talk to her, though. He tried, certainly, but he'd just… lose all sense of verbiage around her. It wasn't attraction… it was social ineptitude. Ezra didn't dare mention his troubles to Charlotte, either. She'd say something modern insensitive. Like, “Suck it up, E. She doesn't bite.”

Ezra exhaled through pursed lips, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the gate swing open and then closed once again. Although Ezra had the garden apartment, any tenant could access the garden through the side gate.

Gwendolyn had woken up that morning in a particular mood. She wasn't entirely sure how to define it, but it just felt like a weird start of the day. She slipped out of Charlie's bed - her sweetness having already left to do Syndicatey things - and prepared herself for the day. It was suppose to be a bit crisp, but ultimately a beautiful spring day. Little rain in sight, according to the weird square box. What was it Charlie called it again?

She shook her head. This morning she had decided to enjoy the garden - she hadn't been there before and wanted to take a small walk, maybe assist in some gardening herself. Her own family had some small gardens themselves, despite their merchant class. It was nice to just get into the dirt, pull the weeds. It was refreshing, calming, and in general a good relief of stress.

As such, she wore a green spring dress with a long brown coat. She curled up in it as she went to the garden, coming through the side gate. She stopped, taking a deep breath of the surrounding air. Gardens always smelled amazing. Well, almost always. Some of the fertilizer modern man used smelled something awful. In defense, though, didn't smell good in her time, either.

She noticed a man... It looked like the What do you call them? Owner of the building? Landkeeper? She really needed to go back through her vocabulary. Actually, wasn't that even a word that was used in her time? She sighed, wondering if she was losing it.

With a small smile, she carefully came up to the man and gave a little wave, "Good morning! I believe you are Ezra...?"

The homunculus started at the voice, nearly dropping a potted sprount onto his feet. Thankfully, his reflexes were much faster than that, an dhe caught the plant. The only casualty was a bit of spilled potting soil. Ezra glanced over his shoulder, the rest of his body following his gaze as he faced the young woman. It was none other than Charlotte's romantic interest. These days, people called them girlfriends or boyfriends. It was one step before "betrothed", though often people did not make it to that step... or so Ezra had been told.

>> "Good morning! I believe you are Ezra?"

"Ah, yes-" Ezra said hurriedly, adjusting the pot into one hand, while wiping his hand upon his apron. He could feel blood rushing to his cheeks, likely in embarrassment. New people were a challenge for him. This made finding new tenants a particular challenge. Ezra extended the freshly-wiped hand towards the young woman, smiling amicably, "I-I d-don't believe we've met, Miss-?"

Once greetings were exchanged, Ezra would turn quickly, to set his potted sprout next to the planter box, hastily making excuses, "I m-must apologize for not having made your acquaintance yet, madame, but I d-do tend to keep to myself quite a bit... I'm sure Miss Charlotte's told you that... or m-maybe not, but... I occupy the garden apartment, there-" he gestured vaguely to the house, "A-and it's just myself, Alice, and Gertrude... Alice and Gertrude, being my cats..."

His lips formed an expression that lingered somewhere between an uncertain smile and mild discomfort, sincerely hoping that the young woman was understanding what he meant. He was not an outgoing person. New people made him nervous. This information was, unfortuantely, subtext to what he'd said.

"J-just myself, my cats, and my plants," he concluded, eyeing the potted plants that awaited him at the back door.

Gwen smiled widely, excited to meet the mysterious fellow. Sure, Gwen had talked some about him but he wasn't exactly the most common conversation they had. Gwen and Charlie had all sorts of conversations, of course, but mostly it was about their days, their love for one another, and so forth. Maybe it was because Gwen didn't really have that many friends. In either case, the heavy accent of British and Boston combination broke out as she nodded softly at the poor guy. 

"I do apologize for startling you, sir. I just came to enjoy the morning garden, something I have been meaning to do for a while." She shook her head, "No, but we have seen each other." She didn't immediately respond to the handshake - she moved to curtsy before realizing she was following the etiquette of a dead time. She shook his hand softly. "I am Gwendolyn. Just Gwen, though." She gave another warm smile to the nervous man. "Charlie has mentioned you, of course." 

She clapped a little at the mention of cats, "I do love cats! They are quite amusing and are absolutely lovely pets." She looked towards the garden, "Do you do this garden by yourself?" She asked, curiously. She wasn't exactly a green thumb. Probably more of a brown thumb, than anything. 

"I-it's quite alright," Ezra assured the woman, his tone climbing slightly, "I am very easily startled." Ezra watched as the woman moved to curtsy, and then caught herself, and clasped her hand in Ezra's.

"M-Miss Gwen," he repeated. As soon as the handshake was exchanged, Ezra's hand hastily retreated to the terracotta pot. He bowed imperceptibly. Still, the woman's seeming old-fashioned-ness was striking to the man. He wanted desparately to ask about it, but it didn't seem proper.

He nodded in agreement when Gwendolyn remarked how she loved cats, a genuine smile touching his features. He also loved his cats. And if he were feeling any more forward, he'd invite Miss Gwendolyn to tea, to meet Alice and Gertrude, but he wasn't that forward.

>> "Do you do this garden by yourself?"

"Yes, madame, I am the chief gardener," he proclaimed, "R-right now I'm planting some sprouts that I've kept inside until now... I think it's finally warm enough to transplant them. And if everything works-out, they'll make for some lovely vegetables in the summer."

The garden was one matter of pride for the homunculus. Ezra looked towards his shoes.

"I shan't keep you from your morning reverie," he said hurriedly, "I think I will... get my sprouts out of the mud room before the sun gets too hot... W-would you like some tea while you have a look around? I, uh, already have a kettle of water on the stove."

This was indeed true. He hadn't intended upon sharing it with anyone, but Ezra felt kind-of bad about ignoring the woman altogether. At least if he offered her tea, he wasn't totally dismissing her.