LaytonsSweetheart

"Hello. We haven't seen each other in a while, have we? But I suppose that's my fault. Too many puzzles and cases, so little time." Pause. "But I brought you flowers." A bouquet of pink roses are clenched tightly in his hands, his fingers are shaking from the force of which he is holding them. The thorns are sharp, like small daggers tearing through his skin; he doesn't feel the pain. Crimson blood drips from his fingers, onto the pure, white snow at his feet. "They're roses, your favorite." With a tight jaw he sets them down. His blood is beginning to stain the flowers, its dark, rich pigment spreading across the pink petals. It's quiet a