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Summary
Credence turns the carnation over in his hands, confused. "Did you leave this for me?" he asks. This is the fifth flower he's found in as many days. Credence would have a whole bouquet of them now, if he cared to keep them, but pollen makes him sneeze.
"No," says Newt. "That came in with the post this morning." He points, and Credence spies an elegant barn owl perched in the Bowtruckle tree, head under its wing.
Credence sighs. "What does it mean?"
"It means," Newt says, deeply amused, like he doesn't write Tina terrible poetry in between the lines of his manuscript, "that you have an admirer."