Saint Valentine's Day was never the highlight of the year in their small, slightly overcrowded office. The men would exchange miserable glares and, as per the stiff order of the resident female, exchange cards denoting friendship. More often than not, the blonde was even responsible for purchasing said cards, and said that Saint Valentine's Day did not need to be specifically about couples of the male-and-female kind exchanging gifts.
The commanding officer got far too many little trinkets for his own liking, piled atop his desk ridiculously high, sometimes spilling onto the floor. Chocolates and cards, usually, and the edible of the two the raven-haired alchemist would pass around the office without a second thought. The other men gathered this and that over the years, and they too passed chocolates around the room spare the portly Second Lieutenant who didn't dare share.
The resident female, however, was doted on. Certainly, her desk was never in quite the same state of chaos as her superior officer's, but it did tend to be crowded with a flower or so on the holiday. She always found places for them; she gave the yellow flowers to a friend in the Investigations office who happened to love bright yellow daisies, and she gave the deep red carnations to the bookkeeper down the hall. Either way, any white lily that found its' way to her desk would remain in the office to keep the space just that much brighter for the duration of it's short, flower-like life.
Every year for however long the company worked together, the men would reluctantly pass around cards to one another, and quite cheerfully place small bundles of flowers on the blonde's desk. It was one of the few days in the year they came to the office before her, just so that she wouldn't know who had left what flowers. And every year, as per tradition, she would arrive with cards as was expected of her.
But this year, there was no blonde-haired First Lieutenant to leave flowers for. Her desk had been empty for two and a half weeks by the time Saint Valentine's Day rolled around, and the men said nothing about the absence. Thankfully, they had last heard, she was safe, fighting on the front lines all the way at Briggs fortress. The upheaval had started just at the start of February, and their sharp-eyed shooter was shipped off North to defend her country, as she was so apt to doing.
Even without her prying amber eyes to ensure it, the men passed around their cards in especially somber spirits.