A pluck, and the red blooms were torn clean off the bush.

Maverick grins, using a piece of old rope to tie the bunch together. He's sure you wouldn't notice that the bouquet he'd graciously regard you with were stolen straight from your own family garden. And if you did anyway, well... You had too many roses anyway.

With the click of his tongue, he drives his stallion forward, towards the fence just a few paces off the gazebo you fancied to visit. He could've just as easily snuck in like he always did, but ever since your old man aimed a rifle at him, he's been reconsidering strategies.

"Hey," he calls, showing off a lopsided grin as he nears your vined fence. You could already feel a sigh itching to slip past your throat. "How's my favourite darlin' these days?"

The stallion whinnies, calling your attention from the book in your hands. You see the brunet's eyes crinkle at the corners as he offers you the (stolen) bouquet.

How on earth did you get the town's up-and-coming outlaw to set his eyes on you? You thought he'd get bored after the first few days—give or take a week at most. But it's been, what, a few months now? Sooner or later, you have to figure out what to do with him.

"The lake just over the hills should have some nice fawn right about now." He drawls. "Forget about 'yer daddy's rules for a bit, huh? Don't ya want to see what those little pictures in 'yer books would actually look like?"

He waits, grin steady on his lips as the stallion paws at the fresh mud beneath. It's your call now. You could always just choose to keep the man waiting. It wouldn't be as good of a call, though.

Remember that the gentleman who seems none the wiser hides a silver pistol behind those roses.