It was a mid winter morning in a small flat on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley. Sizzling on the nearly red-hot cast-iron stovetop were several thick slices of rosy pink bacon laced with  stripes of white fat, filling the tiny apartment with a knee-buckling, savory aroma. Standing over them, clad only in a pair of boxers, Jack tried to flip the meat with a wooden fork and his fingers, cursing under his breath and wincing as the fat spat rebelliously at him. He wasn’t about to be beaten by his breakfast though, especially not by something as delicious as bacon, and managed to catch a crispy bit and flip the entire thing, earning a few new burns in the process.

As he focused on taming the next piece, the pile of clothes, hair and one errant, half-hanging shoe on the futon stirred to life. Sam poked her head up from the cavern of pillows that she had barreled headfirst into the night... well, morning, technically... before, and spat her hair out before blinking at him listlessly. Licking her lips, which were still smeared with lipstick, she sat up and stared around the room blankly for the moment, as though she were trying to figure out where she was and how she had gotten there. When it finally dawned on her, her expression only barely changed from confusion to distaste.

“G'morning'.” He said, without looking over his shoulder at her. If he did, he would have to fight the urge to both laugh and cry. With her make up smeared all over her face, she looked like a drunk and homeless clown that went through a carwash for a bath: both hilarious and terrible.

“... Mm...mmmorin...” She mumbled in return as she lurched out of bed, nearly face-planting thanks to the 6 inch difference her one shoe made. She looked around for it's twin and when she couldn't find it, kicked it off towards a pile in the corner. A few minutes later, he heard the shower sputter to life. Good thing too. She smelled like a pub. Humming absent mindedly to himself, Jack dusted off the only plate and went about making her a couple of runny eggs.

A few minutes later, Sam came out of the tiny loo, skin steaming and hair harshly tamed into a tight bun, and eyed the plate Jack had set out for her. “Wha're those, then?” She asked, eying the lumps of slightly overly browned eggs. “Eggs, innit?” Jack said between bites of bacon. When her expression clearly disagreed with this statement, he went to take the plate away, adding “If yah don' want em...”

“No, no... They're... fine.” She recanted, pulling the plate from his grasp, her hangover clearly winning over her taste buds. They ate in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “So... Valentine's day. Whatcha plans then?”

“Eh?” and a raised brow was all he could muster in response.

“Wha?” She laughed incredulously, paused, and then put her plate down, as though the mere idea that he had made no such plans required her entire body to process. “Wait. Ya really don't 'ave plans then? With Emeline? Ya'know, somethin' romantic like...”

Jack picked up another piece of bacon and chewed on it thoughtfully before shrugging “Why would ah? She's me mate... Though...” He paused at this, a small, giddy grin crossing his face as his ears grew a bit pinker at the thought of doing something 'romantic' with Em. Then, realizing that Sam was staring at him with a look of absolute derision, Jack started to choke on his bacon. Coughing violently, he chugged a glass of water before swallowing painfully and shaking his head, croaking “Nah... she's me mate. She don' see me like tha'.”

“Oh. My. God. Yer a bloody idiot.” Sam said, shaking her head slowly, her expression softening only slightly with pity for her poor, witless brothers plight. “She absolutely thinks yah fit, mate. Yah'd 'ave t'be blind 'r dumb not'a see it.” Shaking her head, Sam stood and handed her plate to him before giving him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “Bring 'er some flowers or owt, ya twit. Somethin' she'd like.”

At this point, Jack was frozen in place, hands full of plates and half eaten bacon, and his brain filled with millions of giddy thoughts, fears and daydreams vying to take center stage. One of which was that he couldn't really afford flowers since he had spent most of his paycheck on bacon and  another was whether Emeline even liked flowers in the first place.

Which is why, a few hours later, Jack ended up in front of Emeline with a goofy smile on his face as he presented her with a bouquet of 12 painstakingly handcrafted bacon roses. It was a win-win. No-one would say no to bacon.

It had been a long, long shift at Alohomocha. Emeline had spent the day making hearts in her latte art-- with exhaustion, however, the latte hearts turned into latte butts within the last half hour of her shift.  Thankfully, by some sort of divine intervention, she wasn't working tonight! Unlike the other bartenders at Death & Co, she could do whatever she wanted and not have to worry about lonely men sobbing into their gin and tonics, hoping that their next drink would make them forget about being single.

Emeline had literally just clocked out and stuffed her apron into her purse when Jack Howell made an appearance. With his big sad eyes and delightfully caterpillar-like brows, he was absolutely adorable in a kicked-puppy sort of way. And Em didn't think that just because he was a werewolf.

She could smell the bacon before she even saw it, but once she caught sight of the rose pattern they had been twisted into, she smiled.

"Jack!" Emeline greeted him with a big hug. In her boots (though modestly heeled), she towered over most men and he was no exception. "They're lovely!" Unfortunately, she hadn't even thought of getting anybody a Valentine's gift. She had been so focused on work and bringing home money to be as thoughtful as she perhaps should've been. "Thank you." Em gave them an admiring look. She almost didn't want to eat them...

"Are you hungry?" She asked, "We can get burgers, or...?"  The least she could do was buy him a meal after he gave her such a thoughtful gift!

On the way there, Jack practiced what he would say to Emeline when he presented her with the roses, his muttering eliciting several odd glances and snickers along the way. He started out with the typical 'Ya eyes'r nice, ah really like'em, almost as much as ah like ya, wanna get a beer?' and cycled through body parts until he was getting into obscure ones like kneecaps and gums, before he decided that those all just seemed forced. It wasn't that they weren't true, he thought every single part of her was amazing, just that they seemed like things other people would tell her. It had to mean something … different. Special. Jack wanted to be as special to her as she was to him.

He had just decided on the perfect line when he approached Alohomocha, only to have it dry up in his mouth the moment he laid eyes on her, looking radiant as usual. As she wrapped her arms around him, thanks to the added height of her boot heels, his face nestled right in the crook of her neck. The ability to form coherent sentences left him completely as he was enveloped by the smell of sandalwood, cinnamon, and coffee.

"Are you hungry? We can get burgers, or...?"

Her innocent suggestion caught his attention and snapped him back to attention “NO!” He almost shouted, before catching himself and adding quickly “Ah mean... Ah wanted t'treat ya t'dinner. Burgers are brilliant n'all, but ah was 'oping for som'thin' a bit nicer.” He had managed to convince Sam to give him a little spending money, as she owed him for rent and all, just so he could afford a semi decent dinner for the two of them. He was determined to show Emeline a good time.