"What is this?"

Prowl looked up from his datapad after examining the object shoved under his nose. "It appears to be a rose," he stated calmly, doorwings flicking slightly in amusement.

Red Alert gave him a flat look. "I'm aware of that. Though I thought roses were supposed to be red. How did it get into my office? And why?"

A tiny smirk curled the corner of the tactician's mouth. "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer? Obviously you know I put it there, or you wouldn't come to me. As for the why..." the grin broadened, taking over his entire mouth, "perhaps you should look it up. I've been told, and I quote, 'Google is your friend'."

Red's optic ridges knitted together as he did as suggested. "Primus, what do humans need with so many different types of roses? This is ridiculous..."

The black and white laughed. "I suggest you narrow your search parameters. You're only looking for the meaning behind it, not what kind it is."

The Lamborghini shot a dirty look at Prowl. "It is a plant. What possible meaning could it have?"

"Just look. Humans find meaning in the most unusual of things." The Datsun sounded far too amused.

Red grumped to himself and returned to his search. In a matter of moments, he'd found what he was pretty sure Prowl wanted him to.

"Really," he said flatly, giving the other a mildly exasperated look. "You couldn't just tell me, you had to employ vegetation?"

"Would you prefer poetry?"

He really was enjoying this far too much. "No."

"Suit yourself." Prowl shrugged with his wings and turned his attention back to his datapad.

Red shook his helm and crossed the common space of their quarters to the berthroom. He stopped at the side of the berth when another rose caught his optic, lying on his pillow. It was large and exquisitely formed, a bold scarlet. He picked it up and looked it over, the huffed a vent in faint amusement and set it aside with the orange rose that had been in his office.

He lay down and heard a little crinkling sound, then leapt back up to find the source. A small sheet of flimsiplast had been left underneath the rose, though with the distraction the flower caused, he hadn't noticed. Written upon it in Prowl's elegant script was a short... poem. Doggerel, really. A sigh. The mech was in rare form today.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
The depths of my love,
If only you knew...