The Scribe had never been a fan of your frivolous displays of affection.

All of your gestures were nice, but he would have preferred if you just left him to be absorbed into the tranquility of solitude.

He would never admit to the fact that he kept every one of your silly little "crafts", usually consisting of leaves you'd cut into hearts and written poems on. The Scribe supposed he would have to give credit where it was due, you always managed to surprise him whenever that archon-forsaken holiday rolled around.

Oh yes, somehow you always managed to set up something elaborate (and equally as embarrassing) for him on Valentine's Day.

Alhaitham was given a slight pause, however, when no intricate gifts showed up for him. You had simply given him a tiny hug and headed off to help Kaveh with one of his more.. costly projects.

Good riddance; perhaps you had finally succumbed to his outwardly distant demeanor.

..that was immediately disproved, however, when he'd settled down to read one of the several Sumerian history books he kept, (Alhaitham noted the fact that he owned a copious amount of them, to which you regularly got onto him for, claiming he needed to "expand his palette"), he found a slip of paper nestled in between pages 102 and 103.

"What the.. oh." Upon further inspection, it was one of your oddly sweet little love poems, and attached to it was a bookmark. The "present" was still packaged, he noticed.