howlofahale:

[ He has to sit around his flowers to do the math correctly; If one bouquet has twenty roses, then in total— without the minor flowers and accents, he has a total of a hundred. Robyn sat there, in the middle of all of his roses, trying to write something that will catch Lydia off-guard and be romantic at the same time on this little white card stock paper. The juvenile turned to one of the twin, and turned back to the flowers. ]

      { One hundred roses, one little white card and one clearly frustrated wolf – Aiden merely leaned against the door frame, arms folded tightly across his chest. This was partly one of the reasons why Aiden didn’t get involved – and when he did, he figured chocolate and perfume usually did the trick. } 

                       "For my love – my redheaded death screaming angel.“

             { Was that a growl, he heard? Or a sigh. It was hard to distinguish the difference. }