Vulpes returned to the Fort still dressed in his gambler’s suit, wilted flowers in hand and his face spattered in what Lucius hoped was animal blood.
"I’m taking it your Valentine’s Day gifts didn’t go over so well," remarked the older man, grey eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.
"I thought women loved hearts!”
"Well not still-beating hearts, idiot!”
“You should have specified. Do you know how difficult it is to procure the heart of a deathclaw on such short notice?” snarled Vulpes, tossing the still warm organ to the carpeted floor of the tent. “You’d think she’d at least have the decency to say thank you.”
"Perhaps you should’ve stuck with something simpler, like…irradiated chocolate, or a card."
"I got her those, too."
Lucius looked relieved. “Well it’s hard to go wrong with a card. What’d you write in it?”
"Oh, you know, the usual flowery degenerate nonsense. You’re very alluring, have a good Valentine’s Day, should any man wrong you I will burn his house to the ground and salt the earth it was built on so that nothing may grow there ever again-"
"Well there’s always next year, I guess."