“I’ll let this slide, seeing as to how Valentine’s Day actually caters to your name..”
“You…? Will let this slide?” There is almost that note of incredulity in my tone as crimson gaze is shifted away from the pile of sweet in my arms toward the blonde.
He sighed simply, as muscles within his facial expression relaxed as they were now seen as if he was annoyed at the shape-shifter’s fortune; poker-facing towards him “..Yes Vincent. Hhn, guess even you can have somethin’ to forward to each year.. Good for you.” Nodding at him at the end of his words.
While Vincent Valentine enjoys his sweet, this period of the years where that exquisite taste lingers in the air is rarely celebrated by the gunner whose very name is commended upon. Love, the ex-Turk has had its taste: bittersweet be that tender touch which haunts him in each restless night.
Valentine is a reminder of a dream he dares not dream, and one he dares not wake from.
Valentine is a reminder.
“You can have these if you wish.” The crimson gunslinger gestures toward the pile of brown ambrosia in his arms.
He doesn’t really care.
(Source: \)
