(lol. We will definitely stage that.) "You don't need to impress anyone here," she reminded him as they walked, squeezing his hand. "I'll love you regardless. You're okay."
He kissed her cheek lightly, feeling more reassured. "I'm okay," he repeated slowly. "I trust you enough to be believe that."
"Good," Poppy said, squeezing his hand. "I'm generally right about these things." They turned another corner and the trees gave away to reveal a two-story house sitting in a large, sunlit clearing. The house was a warm green with white trim, with various plants completely surrounded it. One man stood alone in front of a particularly large bush, his hands on his hips and his back to Poppy and Francis. He had curly brown hair with shots of grey through it, and a beard to match. He reached up with callused, working hands, and carefully snipped a branch from the plant, his head cocked slightly. His eyes were bright and curious, almost exactly like Bee's, and he put one hand in his pocket while he peered down at the branch, his gaze alight with interest. His posture was strong, and he pulled apart the branch with meticulous fingers, scraping out small seeds and brushing away pollen. Bee and Nickel came up behind him, and Bee tugged on his pant leg. He glanced down at her, surprised, and then knelt down to show her the plant, speaking in a quiet, thoughtful voice and gesturing to various parts.
Francis put his hands in his pockets uncertainly. He looked over at Poppy with a small smile. "I'm sure they will be super excited to see you here," he said softly. "I mean, what family wouldn't? Even I'm excited."
She returned his gaze and watched him for a moment before kissing him quickly. "Thank you for coming with me," she said softly. She glanced back towards the man and Bee, who had yet to notice them, and she smiled as she watched them, her eyes loving. "That's my dad."
He put a hand on her shoulder, raising his eyebrows. "You should go say hi. Give him a hug. Things families do."
He nodded, squeezing her hand. "Alright, let's go," he said smoothly, before looking back up at the house nervously.
Poppy pulled him forward until they were behind the two of them. "And these seeds will spread," they would hear him say to Bee in a low, careful voice. "But what I'm wondering why they're shriveling up like this." Poppy laid a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at the two of them from his place where he knelt. It took him a moment to see her, but then his face split into a wide grin. "Poppy! Hello, my darling." He stood up quickly and enveloped her in a hug, kissing her cheek. Poppy rested her head on his shoulder. "Hey, Papa." He held her for a moment before letting go. His gaze flickered to Francis, and he cocked his head. "And who is this?" he asked, not unkindly. "Papa, this is Francis," she said. "Francis, this is my dad, Lewis."
Francis extended a hand, a small smile on his face. "It's lovely to finally meet you, sir," he said, the nervousness in his voice would only be clear to Poppy.
Lewis peered at him with interest before shaking his hand, as if he were a specimen under a microscope. "It's lovely to meet you too," he said, nodding. "Although there's no need to call me 'sir'. I'm just Lewis." Poppy cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow. "Papa, where are the others?" she asked, taking Francis' hand and squeezing it. "Behind the house," he said, pointing a thumb. "I was actually suppose to go grab something, but I'm afraid I've forgotten." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and frowned. "I think it had something to do with food." "Plates?" Poppy asked. "Cups?" He snapped his fingers and tapped his nose. "Cutlery. I'll be back. Lovely to meet you, Francis." He went into the house, shutting the door behind him, and Poppy turned to look up at him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Well, he's nothing like my dad, which is probably a good thing. I'm sure it'll get easier, eventually, right?"
"It will," she replied with certainty, kissing his cheek as they began to walk towards the back of the house. "What's your dad like?"
Francis was quiet, thing to think of a word. "He's very formal.. Formal and bit frightening," he replied honestly. "It's the worst when he doesn't say anything."
"Oh dear," Poppy said quietly. "That's terrifying." Bee was tugging on his pant leg, her expression one of thoughtful consideration.
"Do you know how to play soccer?" she asked with a cocked head. "George wants to play with me, but I don't know how." Her expression became mildly panicked, an expression that would be strangely familiar to Francis on her young face. "I don't know how to play, and he's coming in an hour. And he's really good."
Francis looked back at Poppy with a grin, before turning to Bee with a pleasant smile. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning down closer to her. "Well, you've come to the right person. The best around, actually."
(Christ, this is cute.) Poppy laughed deeply, but Bee was looking at him seriously, holding on to every word. "The best? Better than George?"
(Bee is so adorable) "You bet. I used to be a soccer champion," he said, his head tilting slightly. (How good is George? What's Francis up against?)
