Valentine's Day, the worst holiday for ex-husbands and divorcee wives. A day filled with thoughts of "what is she doing right now?" And "is she sleeping with him?" And "what presents are they exchanging?" And "How happy does he make her?" Last year, he smoked until 9, then drank until 12, then thankfully passed the day into sweet oblivion. This year, however, he was determined to not be a sad sack reheating a microwaved a roast chicken dinner for one and texting his daughter happy Valentine's.

He was going to make some chocolates to surprise his daughter. Or try to.

The class was in his local university, it was attended mostly by women hoping to make valentine chocolates for the person of their affections. Callan looked around, he was woefully out of place. He was the only man in the class, and most likely, needed some brush up on his baking. He felt out of place in his leather jacket and punk piercings on his ears, he had tried to tone it down slightly by slicking his hair back to keep it somewhat well kept, but he realized now it just made him more aggressive.

As they were waiting on the class to open however, Callan's eyes darted around to a familiar hue of pink hair. "Miss Talbot?" He asked, his voice would be recognizable. He had been taught for a year in her class prior to dropping out, but the years and most definitely the smoking and singing have deepened his vocal chords, and hardened them. "It's been so long," He smiled, his eyes scanned her up and down, a twinkle of pleasant surprise in his red eyes. "How've you been?"