"Do we know who sent them?" Frankie asked, thumbing over the card that was attached to the exquisite bouquet that had not long been delivered. There were at least two dozen long-stem roses still thorned, as Brittany became painfully aware of as she grabbed the bouquet in her excitement, a thorn piercing her finger in the process. The flowers were a gorgeous burgundy red, the colour so dark they almost looked black at certain angles.
Sucking her finger, Brittany shook her head, "Nope, but when you find out who it was, tell them the de-thorn them next time will you. Nothing says I love you like bleeding out." Brittany said pouting, taking her finger from her mouth only to check it before returning it to her mouth, as if somehow sucking the wound would magically heal it.
"Dramatic much."
