[backdated to valentine's day, late morning]

When it comes to a slight impatience with the oversaturation of the city with red roses, ridiculous advertisements for diamond rings, and candy, Grantaire can cast a skeptical eye with the best of them. The idea of everyone giving gifts on the same day lacks some poetry, he thinks, and these days it seems as though the love letters don't even have to be composed yourself or remotely serious.

But that doesn't mean that, flush in a new relationship (well, one with a new name, anyway), it's not a good excuse for a surprise.

It's a lazy, freezing-cold Sunday, and so when he gets himself up even Gavroche is still asleep. He leaves him a quick note and donuts waiting on the counter.

And then he heads over to Edgar's, but not without making a few different stops: an box of pastries fresh from the oven, some chocolate, piping-hot coffee. His hands are a little frozen by the time he gets over there, and he's snow dusted. He texts when he's right outside.

Wake up. I promise it'll be worth it.