Hunter:-sits in office, looking at glass thorns in his body-

Weaver: Now ....to see.if the poison kicks in....-hands a rose-

Hunter: Wh-what?? -takes it-

~the red rose petals hiss and turn black, as the thorns on the stem poke his fingers~

Hunter:-yelps trying to drop it but stares in horror-

~the thorns were black and stick in his hand~