Henry had invited you over to garden with him...Usually your dates were reading or a nice dinner or literature discussions or just cuddling but since the weather was so nice he thought this would be a nice change.

You find him out of his usual pristine black English suit in old faded pants, no coat, in an faded collared shirt with black suspenders making an x across his back. A single lock of ink black hair has fallen over his forehead out of its usual precision and he's meticulously trimming a rose bush, kneeling in the dirt.

He looks up at you and gives a pleasant nod your way. He gives you your greetings, taking care not to get your dirty with his routine kiss to your cheek and then smiles. "Come smell them...They're a special breed of rose. They smell like raspberries. I had them specially ordered."