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[She's surprised by the bouquet, that much is for certain. For one thing, it's the fact that the congratulations had come so relatively quickly and yet in the form of such an abundant display; for another, it's that she still tends to have Feelings about the prospect of messages sent through the language of flowers, given all of the associations she's had with that and with the people who've understood it in the past.

But the message that Giorno sends is a sweet one, and moreover, it's personal to the point of being heartfelt; our family is a circle of strength is as apt a descriptor as any of the way her rapport with the other members of Hell Hotel had been forged, and it even goes a fair way toward explaining what it is that's had her and Dave on edge for so long.

Two points don't make a circle, unless it's a very small one. A few more would be better still, and not just for the safety in numbers but because neither of them have ever had many to begin with, on top of it.]

Those trinkets of mine pale greatly in comparison to your own gift, I should think!

[That's probably as much an instinctive downplaying of her own talents as it is the truth that her little crocheted flowers really didn't take her much thought or effort; some old habits die hard, and sometimes demurring is one of them.]

And yes, I'd be happy to read for you, if you should like. Once I was — it's silly to say so now, I know, but once I was known as "Meridiana the Seeress"; my predictions were said to be quite accurate, and people would often turn out in the hopes of receiving them.