Oh how she wanted to leave it, to snuggle in his embrace and find solace in their bedroom. She wouldn't have done it, she told herself, had his hand not gently captured her arm and tugged her away. She couldn't resist. It was his birthday after all.

She didn't acquiesce in words, but rather in actions, allowing him to pull her in. For there to be smiles and laughter and a trail of clothes. There she gave him a present that likely was much more enjoyable than the flowers and treats downstairs. And for Dahlia's part... well she was incandescently happy, mess or no.