i played it as if there wasn't really a door, if that's wrong/it matters, i can change. xD denver's bein all nice and stuff... 
That morning, Denver found himself flipping through a weather-beaten book pilfered from Halifax. The book was one of a few titles he'd managed to find. He had been excited to see books again, despite their age and deterioration. This particular title was rather basic and uninteresting; it was an introduction to gardening and plants. He flipped through the thinning pages, careful not to rip them apart with his careless movements. At the back of the book, he found something more interesting: the tools. Pale eyes narrowed in interest as he began to read over the tools and their uses. Many were familiar to him, but he'd paid little attention to them as a boy, preferring to stay away from the dirt and insects.
Maggie's voice came sudden, nearly startling him in the serene silence of the sunny morning. He stood, marking it's page and setting it down. What's she celebrating so early, he though with a grin to himself. Since their recent violent task together, the pair had become close. Denver peeked into the stained mirror, straightening his short hair and donning his jacket once again. Peering around the room he spotted a bottle; another thing he'd found in the city. It was a dark red wine; strong, but sweet, he had decided with a sniff. Grateful, he grabbed it up and moved out the door, navigating the winding lichen-covered halls to Magnolia's own residence.
Pink nose inhaled the air near her home, and it bore no other strong scent, yet. Glad to be the first to meet her, he moved to "Hey," he called out as he approached her home, thick-glassed bottle in hand. He moved into the doorway. "What're you celebratin' this early in the day, hmm?" Looking around, his pale eyes found the bird. For a moment, Denver's face screwed up in a look of shock and uncertainty; after a moment, though, he realized that it was her pet. He would avoid it nonetheless. "You've got a bird..." A rhetorical, useless statement, but he couldn't say much else as his gaze lingered on the thing. Shaking his head, he blinked and focused on her. "I, uh, brought you this." He held the bottle out to her, eying the label to be sure it was the right one. Porto, it said. It would be good, he hoped.
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