Kyoko watched Kaito's face in that moment, saw the hesitation, and knew--this had been hours upon hours of work, of experimentation and failure, of strong hands toiling over a delicate task. How long had he furrowed his brow over piles of fragile flowers? All because he thought--no, he hoped?--it would be something she would like.

And after all that, it still wasn't obvious to him how completely charmed she was, how overwhelmingly happy. He wasn't sure now, and probably never had been, but he'd tried for her anyway.

Gently, gently, gently, she set the flower crown on the table, and then looked at Kaito again. Whatever it was in her chest that Kyoko had been holding back a moment ago, something explosive must have gotten mixed up into it, because now it was bursting out all at once. It sent her tipping forward on her knees, leaning to close the space between them so her arms could wrap around his shoulders.

"I really, really like it," she smiled, chin tucked down against his shoulder. He needed to know.