Gardeners and Out of Season Madness... De Ja Vu

He entered the gardens with a book bag over his shoulder. Thankful that there weren't that many college students out tonight, he thought it would be a nice night to sit and have a read in private. Not paying much attention to things around him, he shuffled through his bag and pulled out a recent acquisition. Turning to the first page, he sat down on a bench and started to read.

Thankfully, she didn't look all that out of place at a college campus. Armed with the proper attire, she could come down here for time away, for quiet time. Or to just ogle the young people who went about their daily lives. And find her food.

The young man looked up and smiled at the red head, a boyish smile with raised eyebrows, before returning to his reading.

She couldn't help it. She shot him a wink, then started off across the campus. Seriously, she could run track ...

He got up, slid the book into his bag, and trotted up next to the beautiful stranger.

"At least one flower around here is still healthy and in full bloom," he says in a flirtatious manner. The gardens surrounding them were wilted and brown, an unfortunate feature in an otherwise beautiful scene.

She looked over with a flirtatious grin.

"I do hope you mean me."

"Nope, I was talking about that old guy over there blowing his nose," he says in a smoothly sarcastic tone, a distant and relaxed humor playing on his features, the effect was signature.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"Is that guy the gardener?"

Because he needed firing if he was.

"Nope," he shook his head, "from what I hear, they all disappeared."

She couldn't help but laugh.

"Disappeared? As in cops and missing persons and all of that, or they just vanished into thin air like in the Philadelphia Experiment?"

"Philidelphia Experiment," he nods once, keeping his manner completely serious, "but I haven't noticed any strange vortices anywhere. I'm sure one of them jumped the flower bed, found the mysterious and forgotten gardens over on Eldridge and Nevada, and will return with the rest of the gardeners minus one."

She snorted softly and shook her head.

"People don't just disappear."

"Huh," he shrugs, "need to come up with a new theory then. Alright, how about," he pauses to think, "Buffy season three, episode ten, the one with the original appearance of The First Evil and the dying trees."

She shook her head.

"Buffy? Really? I'd be more inclined to believe that there's the whole underground experiments from ... was it season four or five? The one with Riley and Adam and the super soldiers?"

He looks at her skeptically, "That didn't cause rampant foliage desiccation. Right atmosphere, wrong symptoms," he started to crack a smile at their game, but was still keeping a thoughtful and genuine air about him.

She tilted her head with a smile.

"Most things don't cause rampant foliage dessication, other than bad soil, or a disease in the plant roots and the like. I saw something similar on this Canadian TV show a long time ago."

He smirks, "You can't believe everything Canadians tell you."

There wasn't even a blink.

"I know. It's not even an real country, anyway."

"Pamela Anderson's boobs," he says in agreement.

She laughed.

"Exactly my point."

"French?" He looks at her inquisitively.

Her brows lifted.

"Are you asking if I'm French or if I can speak it?"

"The first."

She shook her head.

"No, I'm Greek."

"Persephone or Aphrodite?"