He listened. Or, at least it looked like he listened. His eyes were on her, anyway, but his fingers sought the next poor petal to pluck.

“So you’re here for a job,” he surmised. “Maria would be the one to talk to.”

There was no Maria.

He frowned when she inquired to fetching more flowers, but this frown was less hostile.

“These will do. Do you need help finding your mother?”