The next day neither of them mentioned the card, nor the rose.
They worked, studiously, diligently, but on that matter, silently.
At the morning briefing they sat, not together, but opposite one other.
Lucas was reporting on a new cell who, according to the intel, were a threat to British security and seemingly had plans to bomb cathedrals around the country. They were based not in England but in Spain.
Ruth was set the task of finding any background on the three names they had. Tariq was to scour the sites they used to communicate with contacts in London and Lucas was to go to Bilbao to get closer to them and identify their specific targets.
Harry's job was to stay at home and try and romance Ruth. He didn't issue that as an instruction, however, but chose, wisely to keep it to himself.
He hadn't actually been listening very much. His time had been spent wondering what her reaction had been to the rose. Wondering what his next move would be. Wondering when she would actually make reference to what he was doing.
The briefing broke up and he hesitated before getting up. She hadn't lingered, as she had in the past, she left with the rest.
When she got back to her desk there was a post-it note stuck to her computer.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got,
'twas but a dream of thee.
She tore it quickly from the screen. Unwilling for anyone else to see.
Her head bent over it as she read and read and reread.
She glanced up to check no one was watching. They were. He was.
He was standing at the window of his office, still and straight. He watched her intensely. He did not turn away. He simply stared at her.
Unable to stand the weight of his gaze any longer, she looked away. She opened a draw and stuck the note to the inside of her diary and then she tried to do some work.
She did not succeed.
When she got home that night, the note in the door still fell, but she saw that there was a light on in the living room. Her heart rate increased, not because she expected an intruder but because she felt it was something to do with Harry. She was right.
A single candle stood lit and by its flickering light she could see a delicate sheet of paper, resting across it a white rose.
Thou sayest farewell, and lo!
I have thee by the hands,
And will not let thee go.
She smiled.
She didn't want him to let her go.