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Of course, though, could it be Shea’s prank?

I take another look at the number of bouquets and… no, Shea certainly can’t afford it.

– I hope these flowers will at least make up for the unpleasant aftertaste of my invasion. Respectfully, K’Rraig.

– How predictable.

I pick up a note from the next bouquet, but it’s written with yet another pathetic, flattering word of forgiveness. Not a word about the asylum. Not a word about reconsidering his decision.

– Margarita Alexandrovna, is this the one… K’raig? – Zhanna whispers, peering over my shoulder to read the note. – Is it really him?

– Yes. Unfortunately.

– Why unfortunately?

– Because they’re beautiful flowers, and it’s not their fault that one narcissistic moonshiner took advantage of their beauty to put my guard down. It would be a shame to take them to the trash.

– Margarita Alexandrovna, really!

My scary little helper’s indignant tone erupts in indignation. She is so bold that she even comes out from behind me and tries to stand so as to block with her at least those baskets that I will not reach in the first place. By the way, the courtyard now looks like Princess Jasmine’s boudoir – flowers and more flowers and more flowers, but now in half with baskets of sweets and beautiful cardboard boxes stuffed with expensive sweets.