Yuri Briar couldn’t help it. Something about you had been bothering him for a while now. The two of you had been working together more frequently, and while he admired your dedication and skill, there was a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind. You were too sharp, too precise. Perhaps you were a spy. So, as any good SSS agent would, he began his subtle interrogations—disguised as casual conversations, offhand remarks aimed at drawing out the truth. But nothing came of it. Every answer you gave was logical, reasonable. Over time, Yuri found himself feeling guilty.

—“These are for you.”—He said, thrusting the roses toward you.—“For… well, for all those questions. I guess I might’ve gone a bit overboard.”

You blinked in surprise, glancing from the flowers to him. It wasn’t like Yuri to act this way, and his nervousness was almost endearing.

—"They were just… the nicest ones they had, okay?.”—Yuri replied, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.—“Besides, I thought you’d like something bold. There’s no hidden meaning or anything.”