Flowers

Roses are Red,

Violets are Blue,

You love me,

Like I love you.

The note was simple, attached to a small vase of flowers left in the middle of her table. The vase cast a shadow on the brown wood, white streaks where the light bent and rippled with stark black places where the stems stopped the light. The flowers themselves were ironic: Instead of violets and roses, they were baby's breath and bluebells. Blue and white, with green stems. A pretty mix. 

Echo smiled, poking a stem into a slightly better place before walking around the table to the door opposite. 

When she got to the other side, she turned and looked back, smiling faintly at the flowers, and saw ink on the other side of the generic card. Skulduggery's hand-writing in blue ball-point pen.

Isn't it odd that the card came with these flowers? I was shocked. 

She laughed- the card obviously DID NOT come with the flowers, which made the stupid saying on the other side of the tag all the more true. He had picked the card independently of the flowers, then put them together. 

The door opened and closed, and she stayed where she was, grinning at the card. He would find her, he always did. 

A draft, someone behind her, and an arm across her shoulders. "Do you like them?" 

"Yes, but I haven't a clue who they're from!" She grinned up at him.

He just... stared. "Really? Is it that hard to guess?"

"The person neglected to sign their name. I will be very upset if it's from someone I don't know." 

Skulduggery sighed, drooping. "It's from someone you know."

"Really? How can you be sure?" It was just banter, she knew full well who it was. "My boy-friend will be really upset with this, I just know it!"

"Oh, you're taken?" He was playing along. 

"Yup! He's really smart and strong-" Skulduggery visibly perked up at that. "-but he's also possessive and a bit of a control-freak."

Skulduggery's head tilted to the angle that told her he was considering. "Control-freak?"

"Oh, yes." 

"You failed to elaborate, which means he isn't one, or at-least only displays those habits occasionally. You lying wench." The last part was spoken as casually as a nickname, the first past overly snobbish. 

"...Maybe."