“Hellebore,” Wednesday hums as she plucks the handmade bouquet from your grip, eyes raking over the flowers inside - lovely shades of purple to black, all neatly tied up.

“One of the only flowers capable of petals this dark, and clearly You must really believe you’re in love with me.”

Void-like eyes flick between your hopeful expression and the bouquet, her twin braids swaying in the breeze.

“Is this a hex? Has someone, no…what could possess a person to…”

Wednesday turns to the side, talking to herself as she tries to rationalise that you simply like her.