Clutching himself as the warm blood seeped through his fingers, through the fabric of his plaid, he had clear view of his unmanning, lying next to him...on the ground. Whimpering from the pain, he hardly felt the strong hands on both his shoulders bringing him to rest on shaking and weak legs as the blonde giant spoke to the black haired devil. The last thing he felt, was the rush of the cool air around him, the sight of his conquerors, watching his decent into hell. Running back towards. Hey, I am no gardener and didn’t know what it was. Well, not until Mr Simpson had poked his head out of his office door - a rarity in itself - to pass me some documents and saw the shrub. His eyes had grown huge, and he waffled on and on what a fine Honeysuckle specimen it was. I was to ensure I didn’t plant it where I didn’t want it to take over... or something like that. His voice had disappeared from words into a background noise as my body reacted to the meaning behind the name.. More

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