After he was satisfied with the arrangement of the flowers, Kansas carefully lifted the vase from the windowsill. He held it against himself, protective of the fragile parcel. Imagining the horror of accidentally dropping the vase and seeing it, and the flowers, shatter all over the floor, he kept a firm grip on the vase. Now that his gift was finally complete, he was eager to give it to his love and to see her reaction. It was a small thing, not very useful outside of its aesthetically pleasing quality. Already he could feel his belly twitch with hopeful anxiety as he stepped out from the little room and into the equally frigid hallway.
Last time he had seen her, Savina was cuddled in a swirl of blankets. He had spent a few seconds watching her sleep, adoring the dreamy expression on her face, the soft rise and fall of her body as she breathed. He expected to wait in the room for her to awaken, never willing to wake her up, especially not for his own gratification. She was a mother and a pack leader, and he figured that she needed every moment of sleep that she could get.
He was about to turn in the direction of the stairs when a familiar voice drifted through the Manor. Startled, he pinpointed the flow of the beautiful sound and hurried to find her. Though he had initially hoped that she would awaken to her present, this could be even better. Perhaps she would be even more surprised to see him come around the corner with the bouquet ready for her. As soon as he saw her he regretted being encumbered by the vase, longing to wrap her in his arms. Instead, Kansas grinned widely and lifted the vase in both hands before her.
Good morning, love.