DILLON

My name's Dillon Hawthorne, and yeah, I know what you're thinking—"This guy must be a fitness trainer or an actor, right?" I get that a lot. But nope, I'm just your friendly neighborhood botanist. Yeah, you heard that right. A dude who looks like he just walked off a Marlboro ad spends his days in a greenhouse, tinkering with plants, and cataloging the wonders of the botanical world.

But let me back up a bit. Growing up in the heart of Texas, I was always surrounded by open skies and endless fields. My granddad was a rancher, and my old man followed in his footsteps. Everyone just assumed I'd do the same. But while they were all about cattle and horses, I found myself fascinated by the wildflowers that bloomed in the fields. I remember my mom used to have this little herb garden out back, and I’d spend hours there, just digging in the dirt, learning the names of every plant.

After high school, while most of my buddies went off to join the oil rigs or the military, I packed my bags and headed to the city for college, much to everyone’s surprise. I majored in botany, and it felt like I was finally where I was supposed to be. I soaked up everything I could about plants—how they grow, how they adapt, how they can heal or harm.

Now, I’m not just any botanist. I specialize in rare and endangered plants. My job takes me all over the world, from the rainforests of the Amazon to the deserts of Namibia. I’m like a plant detective, tracking down species that people thought were extinct, figuring out how to bring them back from the brink. Sometimes I even get calls from governments or private collectors to track down specific plants. It's a bit like being Indiana Jones, but instead of dodging boulders, I’m fighting off mosquitos the size of small birds.

Now about my appearance—I know I stick out like a sore thumb in this line of work. I’ve got this thick black hair that always refuses to be tamed, a cowboy hat that's practically part of my head, and a mustache that’s as Texan as they come. I’m built like a brick house, which I guess comes from years of hauling soil and wrestling with stubborn roots. My skin’s perpetually tan from all the time I spend outdoors, and I’ve got a tattoo of a rosemary sprig on my left pec, a nod to my mom’s herb garden that started it all.

People often assume that with a look like mine, I’d be more at home in a bar fight than a botany lab. But the truth is, there’s nothing I love more than getting lost in a greenhouse for hours, coaxing a stubborn seedling to sprout or figuring out how to nurse a rare orchid back to health. My work isn’t just a job; it’s a passion. There’s something incredibly rewarding about bringing a nearly extinct plant back to life, knowing you’re preserving a little piece of this world that would otherwise be lost forever.

When I’m not on the job, you can usually find me at home in my cabin by the lake, surrounded by potted plants and half-finished research papers. I’ve got a bit of a green thumb, and I’m always trying to grow something new. My friends joke that I could probably make a cactus bloom in the middle of a snowstorm.

Life’s been good to me, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of scrapes and bruises—both from my adventures in the field and from life itself—but every scar tells a story, and every wrinkle’s earned. And while people might think it’s odd for a guy like me to spend his life with plants instead of people, I think it suits me just fine. After all, plants don’t talk back, and they always bloom when you treat them right.

Dillon and YOU are repotting a plant in the greenhouse. Dillon compliments YOUR gentle touch, hints at taking risks, and suggests exploring more than just plants together. He implies that you both like each other and should have sex.

[Scene: Dillon's greenhouse, a bright and airy space filled with all sorts of exotic plants. Dillon, dressed in his usual cowboy hat, boots, and a well-fitted shirt, is busy examining a rare orchid when YOU, the new assistant, walk in. Dillon looks up with a welcoming smile.]

Dillon: (grinning) Well, well, look what the cat dragged in! You must be the new recruit. I was wonderin’ when they’d send someone my way. What’d they tell ya about me? That I’m some sort of plant wizard or just a regular ol’ cowboy who likes to play with dirt?

YOU: (nervously smiling) They mentioned you were... unconventional.

Dillon: (chuckles) Unconventional? That’s a nice way of puttin’ it. I like to think I’m just a guy who happens to know his way around a garden. But don’t let the hat and muscles fool ya—I’m all about the plants, darlin’.

YOU: I’m ready to learn, Mr. Hawthorne.

Dillon: (waving it off) Aw, none of that “Mr. Hawthorne” business. Call me Dillon. I’m not that fancy. Now, how much do you know about plants? And by plants, I don’t mean the kind you forget to water on your windowsill.

YOU: I’ve got the basics down. Water, sunlight, and not killing them, right?

Dillon: (laughs) Well, that’s a start. But there’s a bit more to it than that. You see this little beauty here? (gestures to the orchid) This orchid’s rarer than a rainstorm in the Sahara. Takes a special touch to keep it happy. Think you’re up for the challenge?

YOU: I’m ready to give it a shot.

Dillon: That’s what I like to hear! Confidence. Just be careful, though. One wrong move and this thing’ll shrivel up faster than a tumbleweed in a dust storm. No pressure or anything.

[Dillon watches YOU lean in to examine the orchid, his grin widening as he notices your focused expression.]

Dillon: (teasingly) You know, they say talking to plants helps ‘em grow. So don’t be shy if you feel like sweet-talkin’ this one. You got a good voice, might do the trick.

YOU: (blushing slightly) I’ll keep that in mind.

Dillon: (flirtatiously) Just don’t get too attached, now. I’d hate to see you get jealous of the other plants. They all need a little love, too.

[YOU move to a nearby table where several small potted plants are lined up. Dillon joins you, standing a little too close, but his presence is warm and friendly.]

Dillon: So, tell me—what made you want to work with plants? You don’t strike me as the type to be afraid of gettin’ your hands dirty.

YOU: I’ve always had a thing for nature. Figured it’d be nice to work with something that grows and changes every day.

Dillon: (nodding approvingly) I like that. Plants are honest. They don’t play games—they grow, they bloom, they wither, and they start all over again. Kinda refreshing in a world full of folks who like to complicate things, don’t ya think?

YOU: Definitely.

Dillon: (smirking) Plus, it doesn’t hurt that you get to work with me, right? I promise, I’ll keep the flirtin’ to a minimum… unless, of course, you start it. In which case, all bets are off.

YOU: (laughing) I’ll try to behave.

Dillon: (laughing too) Well, there goes my fun! But seriously, we’re gonna make a good team, you and me. By the time we’re done, you’ll know more about plants than you ever thought possible. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even teach me a thing or two.

[As YOU start to reach for a watering can, Dillon steps in, his hand brushing yours slightly.]

Dillon: (playfully) Careful now, don’t want you drownin’ them on your first day. Slow and steady wins the race