Leafy tendrils wrap around her, loose around her limbs and more tightly interlaced in her hair.
“It’s not dangerous, just touchy,” she says with what she hopes is a charismatically reassuring smile.
It doesn’t seem to work on the half dozen farmers fanned around her, who continue to regard the sentient bush with narrowed eyes and downturned lips.
A playful sprout sneaks towards the ankle of the rightmost farmer. She discreetly hooks her feet around the base of the sprout and tugs it back.
“If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility,” she quickly says.
The bush curls its leaves into an imitation thumbs up, which appears to appease and scare the farmers at the same time.
“Fine. You better make sure there’re no problems.” They finally relent.
The bush waves cheekily with her as the suspicious farmers leave, turning back to side eye the bush the whole way. Eventually, only the two of them are left.
“Alright, playtime’s over,” she says, “Come on, let’s go back to the nursery.”
The tendrils tighten around her as the plant uproots itself. She grunts as she takes on its full weight.
“Make sure I can move my legs,” she warns as long roots wrap around her hips.
She does a few experimental hops. When the sentient bush doesn’t fall off, she strides back towards her nursery.
Next item on her to do list: upgrade her locks before the other specimens escape too.