Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Palentines Day was a mistake. Saint Palentinus would be rolling in his shallow grave if he realized that Hoenn had turned his sacred day into a large-scale capitalist ploy. Fortunately for Howard, he profited from that large-scale capitalist ploy. Especially since Remiel Calcifet had left several crates of Candy Applins in storage from when he was an Admin.

He was now selling them in the breakroom for twenty PD a pop.

"Underboss Fiorelli." Howard's face was a mixture of fear and utter exhaustion. Rocket Admin Slayte's office had been flooded with various Palentines packages, since Admin Bee was still off 'birdwatching'. "I have a Palentines gift for you."

The Rocket Admin pulled out a bouquet of hyacinths. He peered at the card. The room was filled with an awkward silence.

"From... Navy, ma'am."

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"I have a dozen packages for BARNABY FINCH in my office right now, as we speak. Several of which consist of fanmail, and several of which are love poems from the grunts." Howard frowned, looking like he swallowed several shards of glass. "I am completely serious."

His expression makes it clear that he'd rather be anywhere else in this precise moment. He'd fight a hundred Wo-chiens with a mop if that's what it took to get out of this room.

Oh well, he'd committed to doing this. Might as well stick it out for Navy. Howard was the best wingman in Sootopolis.

"It's Fox, actually..." Howard said sheepishly. The fact that she was cutting the codename in favor for his real name meant that she was envisioning what to put on his tombstone. "Do you want me to read the note, ma'am?"

Fuck. It came with a note?

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Frankly. Murder was becoming more and more preferrable as this conversation continued. He hoped that she would hurry and destroy him with her crazy powers, instead of leaving him in suspense.

"Of course, ma'am." Howard inclined his head, still weary of stepping on the several landmines that made up sore spots in the life of Elisabeth Fiorelli. There were oh so many, and so few safe spots between them. The price of missing a step was getting blown sky high. "Though I must confess. Bee. Fox. We have quite the menagerie in Rocket, wouldn't you say?"

He allowed himself a second to smile, to be pleased with his jest. It then vanished as quickly as it appeared. Elisabeth's wrath wasn't worth invoking, but he suspected that Navy had signed his death warranty.

"I will try my best. He wore my hat, I can wear his voice." Howard flipped open the note, and immediately became as pale as milk. His eye skimmed the letter, before looking up.

"I should not..."

An order, not an invitation. Right.

"There is still time to change the road you are on..." He read the next line silently, and looked up at Elisabeth, gauging her reaction before his head went rolling.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

A perfect stranger? Riiiiight. Navy had a type, more like.

The Elite Four member didn't send letters and flowers to Sootopolis unless it was important. The shipping fees alone must've cost an arm and a leg. He wondered if the sheriff had them smuggled in, using those old detective skills he claimed to have. Howard wasn't the smartest member of Rocket, but he was far from the slowest.

Something was afoot. He'd need to kick Navy about it whenever they met to discuss old movies.

"Of course. Silly him. Submarines can't drive on roads, after all." Howard's eye wandered everywhere in the office, refusing to settle on Elisabeth's face. Eventually, he decided to focus on her eyebrow. There was nothing malicious about an eyebrow. "Amusing? I thought you weren't known for your eyebr-" He kicked himself. "-your sense of humor. As for the card..."

For a moment, he considered reading the rest aloud. Instead, he shut his mouth and passed the card to her. He placed the flowers on her desk, and took a cautious step back.

"Ma'am? Underboss Fiorelli...?" He asked cautiously, stepping back again.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"The floristry?" Howard stared at her blankly. He had the same eye as his beloved Aerodactyl. It was the gaze of a predator on a relatively meek man. Occasionally, he'd grow claws and fangs and bite back, but for the most part, he was harmless. "The floristry that burned down? The one that closed last year? The one in Petalburg Woods? That one?"

It was infuriating how closely he danced to the fire, yet his expression never gave anything away. That was what made him infuriating to deal with. She kicked him around, but he always had something to say. Something annoying.

"Ma'am, Underboss Fiorelli." Howard blinked once. "Admin Bee is birdwatching. I haven't seen him since mint frost detected the signatures of the Galarian Birds."

If Howard knew where Admin Bee was, he'd probably throttle the senior Admin before Elisabeth got her hands on him. The man had left him a load of paperwork for him and fern delaney to clean up.

"Oh! You think I forged it." Howard snapped his fingers, pleased that she thought he was so bold. "Admin Delaney specializes in forgeries. Should I fetch him for you?"

He turned away, as if preparing to fetch the Charlatan.

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

The door had been so close, too. If only he had been faster, he could've escaped before Elisabeth Fiorelli confined him to this hellish conversation. Next time, he was slipping the letter under the door and leaving it at that.

"Yes, Underboss Fiorelli." He looked at her as if he hadn't used Admin Bee's Cutiefly network for smuggling purposes before. Ever since his promotion, Rocket's income had dramatically increased. Admin Fox was a lot of things: annoying, craven, educated, but he was very good at his job.

He truly was Rocket's finest mailman. He rubbed his recently grabbed collar.

"I can have it sent out immediately." Howard said begrudgingly. He had several shipments of supplies to sign off on, but what was more important than Elisabeth Fiorelli's trainwreck of a love life? It was moments like this that reminded him that being a Rocket Admin wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

No wonder this organization was in the toilet.

"Should I ship him a bouquet? A dried out one from a supermarket, maybe?" Howard tried, directing her attention from murdering him to feeding whatever scheme she was brewing. "Maybe you could send him the ashes of the hyacinths? He's a romantic, he'll buy into it."

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Why did her penmanship have to be so good? It almost made the meeting worthwhile, if not for the fact that Howard's life had gone from 'moderately tolerable' to 'extremely miserable' in the span of a few minutes. That was always happening, though. Each time he entered another person's office, it was rolling the dice on whether or not he would ever come out.

He wondered how many people had left Underbosses Quinn and Fiorelli's offices alive. He had to be one of the first.

Yet still... what immaculate calligraphy! The way Elisabeth curved the slope of the letter 'h' was immaculate. It belonged in a museum. It reminded the Rocket Admin of the Hoynich manuscript, a small, alien book with the most illustrious and feverish drawings that one had ever seen. Howard knew a hundred languages, and he doubted that all of them combined could describe how much he adored how the 'r' in 'more' flowed into the 'e'.

He wondered what school of calligraphy had taught her that. It was definitely Kalosian. Maybe Barillot? Bereague? Mansion? There were so many immaculate and faultless masters of the craft to imitate. If she wasn't a terrorist, Elisabeth could've been a world-class calligrapher.

Alas.

He thought it was particularly impressive how distinct it was from the Kitakami style. There was a gentle simplicity to how it was done in the rural region. Kalos, meanwhile, vastly preferred the flourishes and excess space that was required. Kalos loved to indulge in the excess, after all.

Howard's handwriting was immaculate, but Elisabeth's was-

Right. The rose.

"I should have a few." Howard said, thinking of the stockpile he himself had received from the grunts. "I'll check."

He left and came back, holding a splendidly pristine white rose.

"Here."

---

Elisabeth Fiorelli