“If you’re not interested, I am more than happy to leave you here messin’ with your moss?—”
“It is lichen.”
“Oh. My apologies.” Seymour fiddled with his keys in his pocket. “You know, maybe, I’dlichento ask you if you want to go get a cup of coffee or somethin’.”
The man stared.
“Sorry.” Seymour laughed. “That was pretty bad, huh?”
“It was.” He cracked a smile. “But I liked it.”
“Maybe enough to at least get your name?”
“Sariel.”
Seymour waited.
Sariel tilted his head.
“No, uh, last name?”
“Oh. Right.” Sariel’s brow furrowed.
“Sariel Wright?”
“Yes.” Sariel nodded slowly. “That is my name.”
“I’m Seymour Madison.” Seymour approached to offer out his hand.
Sariel accepted it. “It is nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Seymour didn’t want to let go just yet, and Sariel hadn’t pulled away. He held on, giving a little squeeze. “So, how about that coffee?”
“Coffee?”
“Yeah! Whenever you’re done with your tombstone scrubbin’, maybe we could get some coffee?” Seymour grinned. “Or dinner?”
Sariel stared for a long moment, and then he suddenly jerked and yanked his hand back, as if startled. “Is this a romantic invitation?”
“Uh, that was sorta the idea, yeah.”
“A date.”
“Yeah, we could call it a date.”
“You wish to go on a date?”
“Yup.”
“Withme?”
“Yupperino.”
Sariel’s eyes widened.
Poor guy looked like Seymour had asked him if he could have some of his internal organs to crochet into a blanket for the devil.
“Look,” Seymour said quickly. “If you’re not interested, totally fine.”
