“When feathers and eggs are your business, chocolate hearts and flowers are of no use whatsoever,” she’d exclaimed when he’d arrived with an armload of both for their first date.
Nowadays, he helps cull any ailing birds, standing on the other end of the broomstick so she can snap their necks with efficient cracks. Then he takes them from her one at a time, wings still flapping. He ties them by their feet to the fence whilst she walks away, wiping her hands on the hem of the apron she wears for killing.
“Now that is true love,” she sighs happily.