Pick a rose, but remember, that flower was never yours to begin with. The consequences of snapping that delicate stem are your doing. If you choose to take the blossom, may you live knowing that.
(Hah, 'live'. They think it will let them 'live'. It will be a half-life at best. At worst, who knows? Likely something beyond their most dark and terrifying nightmares.)
"I trust you."
(The fool.)
"Okay?"
(He plucks the flower. He thinks no longer on my warning. He should have. He will regret.)
"I'm glad!"
(She will not. She already knows the roses' curse. Why else would she lead him here?)
"We should go."
"Okay."
(Unquestioning.
The fool.)