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The heels of the Doctor’s shoes clicked against stone streets as he strode through the Court of Fontaine. His meeting with the people of the Fontaine Research Institute had gone well, providing him with valuable information and materials through a mutually beneficial exchange. The next morning, he would return to Snezhnaya with everything he had set out to obtain. He would return home to his favorite person.
A familiar shop caught his eye: the perfumery from which Pantalone purchased his fragrances. Although the Harbinger typically had them imported, he occasionally traveled to the shop in person to sample new products and sit with Emilie for tea. Il Dottore had no interest in perfume, but Pantalone sometimes brought him along to give feedback when he selected new perfumes for himself. The Doctor had never quite understood why Pantalone would bring him along to Fontaine to smell perfumes, as he had little knowledge of fragrances, he and Emilie sometimes discussed chemistry while the three of them drank tea together. Perfumery was, in a sense, not all that different from lab work, and Emilie sometimes offered intriguing insights through her knowledge of chemistry and forensics. For that reason, il Dottore did not object to visiting the shop with Regrator. But today, he would visit alone, a spur of the moment decision. He stepped inside and looked around.
“Oh, Dottore!” Emilie’s voice carried across the store from a desk in the corner. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
The Doctor approached her desk, on which a few papers and containers of herbs sat. “Good afternoon, Emilie. You appear to be busy. Working on a new formula?”
Emilie nodded. “As always, but I can make time for a discussion.” She stood up and kissed his cheek, a common greeting among acquaintances and friends in Fontaine. He didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t pull away, either. “Is Pantalone coming in today?” She had never seen il Dottore enter the shop without the other Harbinger.
“No, I’m in Fontaine alone this time, but I’ll be sure to pass on your regards to him.” His eyes drifted down to the bottles on the desk.
Emilie smiled and followed his gaze. “I had some flowers imported from Mondstadt for a new floral fragrance. I wish I could give you a sample to take home to my biggest customer, but I still haven’t quite worked out the formula.” She walked over to a nearby shelf. “But I have some new fragrances if you’d like to check them out.” She picked up a sample bottle and lifted it toward his face. “I believe you’ll like this one.”
“Hm… yes, I do. How did you know?” He barely even understood what he was smelling, but he did find it very pleasing to the senses.
“As a perfumer, it’s important to have a good grasp on customers’ preferences.” She set it down and presented another sample for him to smell. “Even though you never pick anything out for yourself or comment on the fragrance composition, you always show clear preferences out of those which Pantalone shows you.”
“Oh?” He smiled and watched her arrange some bottles of vibrantly colored liquids.
She nodded. “Pantalone prefers floral and oriental notes, while you lean toward woody fragrances. You both tend to turn your nose up at any fresh fragrance.” She held another sample to his nose. The scent reminded him of Pantalone. “This is a new one. I believe it would be to Pantalone’s taste, but he hasn’t sampled it yet.”
“It smells good.” He smiled. “Your work is excellent, as always.”
“Thank you.” She set down the bottle. “So, what brings you in today? I’ve never seen you come in here alone.”
He wasn’t actually sure why he had decided to come into the shop. “I made a trip to Fontaine to meet with the local researchers. As I was passing through the city, I decided to stop by.” The scents in the shop reminded him of Pantalone. After spending time away from him, he found the familiar scents comforting. “I’ll be returning to Snezhnaya tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m glad you came by. I hope the two of you can visit sometime soon and sample some new fragrances,” she said cheerfully.
Il Dottore smirked slightly. Though Emilie treated him pleasantly, he had a feeling she was more interested in the other Harbinger, who always came into the shop with a heavy pouch of Mora and left with an extensive collection of perfumes. “I’ll be sure to let him know.” He picked up a few bottles, including some of the new fragrances Emilie had shown him. “I believe I’ll make a purchase today.”
“Really?” She smiled and got out a container to hold the bottles. “For yourself, or for your… colleague?” She sounded a bit unsure of the final word.
“For Pantalone.” He smiled and handed her the bottles he intended to purchase. Aside from the perfumes Emilie had shown him, he carefully selected a few others, smelling each one and picking out the ones that smelled similar to those which Pantalone usually selected. Even though he had no understanding of the notes he heard Pantalone and Emilie discuss during their visits to the shop, he did pay attention to which ones Pantalone purchased to wear and to scent his ink. He could at least recognize similar smells.
Emilie nodded approvingly as she boxed up the bottles. “Good choice. I think he’ll like them.” Though she made no comment on it, she noticed the Doctor’s face light up in a proud smile. “Care to stay for some tea?” she asked as she handed him the box.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be going.” It was a courtesy to offer tea, but il Dottore preferred not to stay around without Regrator longer than he had to. It would feel odd to sit for tea with Emilie without their mutual friend there.
“Then I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Fontaine. Thank you for your purchase.” She smiled and waved as he walked toward the door. “And make sure to say hi to him for me.”
As he walked away from the shop, il Dottore began to process what he had done. He hadn’t exactly thought about it before picking up the bottles. They smelled like Pantalone, and he would probably like receiving them. It would make him happy. This had been the only thought process the Doctor went through as he purchased them. He sprayed one of the perfumes onto his wrist and took a deep breath. It smelled like Feofan.
A few doors down, there was a shop with a vibrant assortment of flowers displayed in the windows. Il Dottore recognized some of them; he couldn’t identify them by name, but he had seen them in vases decorating Pantalone’s office and bedroom. Seeing their familiar blooms felt like home. He walked into the store and was met with the scent of flowers from all corners of Teyvat. A woman stood in the center of the room, arranging a shelf of beautiful, fresh flowers. He cleared his throat and waited until she turned around to face him.
“Welcome in. How can I help you?” Her voice was quiet– not friendly, but not hostile, either.
He looked around. Pantalone loved flowers. He loved to put them in ornate vases in the corner of his office and fill the air in his bedroom with their scent. “You sell flowers.”
She stared at him. “Yes. Clearly. Are you going to buy any?”
He blinked and focused his attention on her. “Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Um…” He looked around again. “A bouquet…?” He wasn’t sure how to buy flowers. He thought he saw a slight smirk on the florist’s face.
“Okay. For a lover, I assume?” He looked at her with a confused expression. “You’re holding a large box of perfumes,” she elaborated. “Likely a gift, and clearly for someone very close to you. So, you’re probably here to get a bouquet for a lover. Aren’t you?”
He slowly blinked. “I suppose so.” Was that what he was doing? He couldn’t exactly deny it.
“Okay, good. There are flowers for friends, and there are flowers for lovers. I’ll help you pick some that are appropriate for the reciprocant.” She stood beside him and explained some of the flowers, their origins, and their meanings. None of it made much sense to him. Why not just select those which looked nice? But for the sake of making Pantalone happy, he accepted her guidance.
The shopkeeper explained that Rainbow Roses, local to Fontaine, were associated with romance and a frequent choice of gift for a lover. Were he and Feofan lovers? He felt unsure of the label, but something about it felt right. Pantalone would know the meaning. Hopefully, it would make him happy. He chose to include them in the bouquet, a choice the florist seemed to approve of.
The Sumeru Rose was deeply familiar to him. The sight of it felt bittersweet. It smelled good, similar to some of the perfumes Pantalone used to scent his ink when he wrote letters. Its deep purple color reminded him of Pantalone. He requested to add this to the bouquet.
Though the shopkeeper didn’t mention the flower, the Doctor’s eye was drawn to a delicate blue flower with hints of light purple. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Frostlamp Flower. From Nod Krai. It isn’t a romantic bloom, but it has a very interesting meaning among the people of its homeland.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“Apostasy.”
Il Dottore turned his head toward the florist. “Apostasy?” he repeated.
“Yes. A deeply religious sect in Nod Krai associates the flower with heresy, because it’s one of the few flowers in the region that seems to have no connection to their deity’s power.” She looked down at the flowers. “Most people don’t know that meaning, but it’s an interesting bit of trivia, right? To anyone else, it’s just a pretty flower.”
“I’ll take that one.”
“Hm? Alright. It isn’t particularly romantic, but it brings the colors of the other flowers together nicely. Not a bad choice.”
The Doctor watched her assemble the bouquet. As he breathed in the floral air, his mind drifted to Pantalone, to his office, to his bedroom. What was he doing now? Was he thinking of il Dottore, maybe even missing him?
She handed him the bouquet and gave him instructions to keep it fresh until he was back in Snezhnaya. With the help of some Elemental Energy, they could be preserved for a bit longer than they would last on their own, long enough for Pantalone to receive them and keep them in a vase for a while. As he made his purchase, a bundle of blood-red flowers caught his eye, drawing his attention with their distinct color. “I’d like some of those, as well,” he said. “Separately.”
“Really? Dendrobium?” The florist slowly laughed. “No one ever buys those. They’re… a bad omen.”
He was unfazed by the warning. “They look quite nice to me.”
“They are pretty, and they’re very rare. They grow in Inazuma where blood is shed.” She frowned. “It would be… very insulting to give to someone, though. Are you sure you want them?”
Il Dottore nodded. He and his companion had always had a penchant for the ominous, strange, and rare things of the world. “Yes, please package them separately. They’ll make a good decoration.”
The florist sighed. “Alright, if you say so. It brings bad luck to the home, you know.” But she packaged them as requested. Il Dottore flashed her a wide smile as he handed over the payment.
He spent a few more hours in the Court of Fontaine before returning to his hotel. He told himself that he didn’t enjoy his time in the city, but he walked around with a smile on his face. When he got to his hotel, he had several souvenirs to take home: perfumes, flowers, desserts, and accessories from Chioriya Boutique. They were all for Pantalone. Nervousness crept into the back of his mind as he looked at the gifts. What if he didn’t like them? Would he find it strange for his colleague to bring him so many souvenirs? They went places together, spent time together, kissed each other, and sometimes shared a bed, but did they get each other gifts, or was that too far? Could Pantalone really be called his lover?
He smelled his wrist, where he had sprayed perfume earlier in the day. The fragrance still lingered. It smelled like Feofan. Sweet, like flowers, but also kind of solid and fancy-smelling. A bit of spice cut through the sweetness. He couldn’t quite remember all of the words Emilie had used to describe it, but it was a fitting scent for Pantalone. Il Dottore closed his eyes and took another deep breath of the fragrance. Regrator enjoyed switching his perfumes, cycling through different but similar fragrances and trying out new ones Emilie formulated. He also used them to scent his ink when he wrote letters. Though each perfume was unique, there remained some similarities in each fragrance he wore. Pantalone used perfumes that made him smell like a beautiful flower, kind of sweet, but not overwhelmingly so, and warm and elegant. It was difficult for the Doctor to describe the fragrances with his limited knowledge of perfumery. All he knew was that it smelled like Regrator, and that made his entire body feel warm.
He wasn’t quite tired enough to sleep yet. The thought of giving the gifts to Pantalone made him feel restless, even after the sun set. What if he found the gifts to be strange or overbearing? What if he hated them? The Doctor sat down at a desk in the corner of the room and got out a pen and paper. Maybe he should write some kind of note to explain why he had gotten the gifts. Was there even an explanation? He had kind of just walked into the stores, thought about Pantalone, and then left with an abundance of expensive souvenirs. Still, maybe a letter would make it less awkward.
Well, it certainly didn’t feel less awkward. He was stuck before he even wrote the first sentence. Why was it so difficult to write his feelings into words?
Dear Pantalone,
…No. He got out a fresh sheet of paper and started over.
Dear Feofan
He hesitated. Would this be too casual? He did address the Harbinger by his personal name in their private conversations together, but perhaps a letter required a greater level of formality. He added to it.
Dear Feofan Sergeyevich Veksel,
…
By the time he finished writing the letter, his words occupied several pages. He took a deep breath and signed it. It was the same signature he put on his contracts with Pantalone. The thought of giving him the letter made him feel sick with nervousness, but he had to do it. He had already written it, and he had to follow through. The letter lay beside the bouquet as the Doctor got into bed. After the emotional exertion of writing the letter, he suddenly felt much more tired than he had before. He lifted his wrist to his face and smelled the perfume.
The sun descended toward the horizon, bathing the Ninth Harbinger’s office in golden light. He had spent the day working through a thick stack of paperwork, and he was finally finishing the final document of the day when a knock at the door broke his concentration. He sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Unless this is an urgent matter, you’ll need to come back tomorrow.” If he had to listen to one more complaint about budget allocation at this hour, he would lose his mind.
“Does the Second Harbinger’s return to Snezhnaya qualify as an urgent matter?”
Pantalone’s face lit up at the sound of the Doctor’s voice. “Yes, of course, come in.” As Pantalone got up and walked toward the door, il Dottore entered and set a box down. He took his mask off, as he always did when alone with Pantalone, then met him in the center of the room and handed him a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Pantalone’s eyes widened. “For me?”
“Who else?” The Doctor grinned.
Regrator carefully took the flowers from his hands. “They’re beautiful.”
“I picked out the flowers, although I had some assistance from the florist. I’m glad you like them.”
“You made a very nice selection.” His expression softened. “Rainbow Roses…” The flower of romantic love. Was it intentional? He looked up at the Doctor with a curious expression, and they locked eyes. In this moment, the Doctor’s gaze held a softness reserved only for Pantalone, and his face looked ethereal in the golden light of the setting sun.
After a silent moment that felt like an eternity, il Dottore broke eye contact and spoke. “I have something else for you.” Pantalone held the bouquet close to his chest as the Doctor presented him with another bundle of flowers.
“Dendrobium.” Pantalone slowly smiled. “Is this a threat, Zandik?”
The Doctor smirked. “It could be. Or it could be that I simply liked the color and ignored the florist’s warnings when she told me they would offend you.”
Regrator laughed and set all of the flowers down on his desk. “Few people buy Dendrobiums because of their grim meaning, but they are beautiful,” he noted. He wrapped his arms tightly around the other Harbinger. “I love them. Thank you.”
The Doctor’s entire body felt warm within Regrator’s grasp. His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath. He had missed this.
“I’ll put them in vases,” Pantalone said. “A bouquet for my bedroom, and Dendrobiums for my office. They’ll serve as a warning for everyone who comes in here to complain to me about funding.” He kissed the Doctor’s cheek.
Il Dottore smiled and stepped back. “I’m sure they’ll look good wherever you choose to put them, and I’ll be quite glad if flowers can deter someone from causing you more stress. I brought you some other things, as well.” He picked up the box in which the other gifts were stored and set it down on the desk. “If you want them, of course.” Though he didn’t show it, his heart pounded, and his hands felt sweaty. What if Pantalone thought it was weird that he got him so many gifts? What if he didn’t like them?
“Oh?” Pantalone peeked into the box. “You got all of this just for me?” he asked quietly.
The Doctor looked away and took a deep breath. “Well, I just thought… Since I was in Fontaine, I thought maybe…” Maybe it had been a bad idea after all.
The Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise as Regrator pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you so much,” Regrator said quietly. He held il Dottore close to his chest and leaned his head against his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all of this. It must have cost a fortune.”
“Well, you know I get paid well.” The Doctor wrapped his arms around Pantalone and rubbed his back. “Of course I didn’t have to do anything. It was my decision.”
Pantalone nodded. “I know. It just…” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “It was really nice of you to do this for me.”
After hugging for a moment longer, Pantalone unpacked the other gifts while the Doctor watched. He commented on each one, telling the Doctor that he loved them, asking where he got them, and thanking him several more times. He really did mean every instant of gratitude. Once he had seen them all, the Doctor handed him a letter.
“Hm? What’s this?” Pantalone adjusted his glasses. “Hopefully not a funding request.”
“Of course not. I hope you don’t think I’m cruel enough to attempt to bribe you with romantic gifts for research funding.” He wrapped his arms loosely around Pantalone’s waist. “Just read it.”
Pantalone looked down at the letter and raised his eyebrows. “My full name?” He laughed quietly. “Why so formal?”
“Stop it. I couldn’t figure out how to address it.”
“It’s alright, Zandik. I’m only teasing you.” Pantalone smiled and turned his attention back to the paper.
Dear Feofan Sergeyevich Veksel,
As you are aware, I am currently in Fontaine on business. I met with researchers from the Institute, with whom I had a conversation regarding their projects with Arkhium and the mechanical design of the Fontainian Meka. (I found the information they provided about Meka to be interesting, but it also convinced me that the design of myself and the other Segments is far superior to anything in Fontaine.) The people of the Institute are remarkably forthcoming, perhaps too much so. I gleaned an abundance of valuable information from them and had to give little in exchange. Still, they seemed satisfied with the information I provided. Don’t worry; I did not divulge any confidential information regarding the Fatui. I would be happy to explain further in person if you have any curiosity about the Fontaine Research Institute or the subjects we discussed together, but I won’t dwell on it here, as I would much rather you visit me in my lab to hear everything I learned in my meeting with the researchers.
Anyway, you will probably wonder why I brought you several souvenirs from my time in Fontaine. It was not my intention when I entered the city to walk away with so many things to bring home to you, but as I walked through the Court of Fontaine, everything reminded me of you. I passed by the perfume shop which we have often visited together, so I stopped inside, and I got you some new perfumes that I sincerely hope will be to your taste. I also spoke to Emilie, who sends you her regards. She recommended some bottles for you, and I picked out some others that I thought seemed similar to those which you have previously enjoyed. I apologize in advance if you dislike them.
After that, I saw a flowershop, and it called to mind the arrangements of flowers with which you decorate your home and office. The florist advised me on the meanings of each flower. She did inform me that one which I selected is known as a bad omen and would cause you offense, but I assure you that I selected them only on account of their appealing color and not with the desire to bring misfortune upon you. The florist told me they grow where blood is spilled. It strikes me as strange to interpret such a flower as an offensive or ominous gift. Blood is the vessel of life. I know you understand this. Of course, you probably already know about the red flower’s peculiar origin and meaning. You’re well versed in this subject, aren’t you? You will know what every flower means when I present them to you. Aside from this red flower, I do agree with and intend to convey to you the message carried by each of these flowers. I hope you will enjoy the sweet scent of the Sumeru Roses (a scent which I believe I have smelled on your skin before, presumably left by your perfume) and the silent message conveyed by the Rainbow Roses. Has anyone given you flowers before? Maybe I will have the privilege of being the first.
You have spoken at times of the rich cuisine of Fontaine, the variety of flavors, and the delicate technique within every dish. I feared that any savory foods I purchased would lose the quality of their flavor by the time I return home to you, so I opted instead for a variety of sweets that would remain fresh during the journey. In particular, I hope you will enjoy the chocolates I selected for you. I sometimes see you eat chocolates similar to these, imported from around the world, so rich they taste bitter. I hope you like them a lot.
I also paid a visit to Chioriya Boutique. I believe you would have enjoyed seeing the designs they have in stock. I saw some accessories that reminded me of you, which I thought would complement your clothing nicely. I would not be opposed to visiting the shop with you at some point. We could go to the boutique together, and you could advise me on fashion, and I could watch you browse new clothing. Perhaps you would ask me which things I think suit you well, just as you do when you browse perfumes, but I think I may not be much help, because I would find every clothing article to look good on you.
It was strange being in Fontaine without you. When I smelled the perfumes, I thought of you. I thought of the moments we spend close together, when you get so close to me that I smell your perfume, and sometimes it lingers on my skin when you leave the room. I thought of the letters you write me while I travel. Then, when I saw the flowershop, I thought of the flowers you keep in your spaces, the ones you arrange in beautiful vases. The flowers in the shop smell like your bedroom. They smell like you. Whenever I walked past a bakery and saw the display cases of desserts, I remembered the chocolates you have imported, the ones you eat in your office, the ones that make you smile after a long day. I remember that you once gave me one of them. I haven’t eaten one since, because I didn’t like it. Too bitter. But you like them. I hope you like the ones I got for you. As I walked to my hotel, I saw Chioriya Boutique. The clothing in the windows reminded me of what you wear when we attend formal events together. You always dress beautifully. You know that I don’t possess the same innate sense for fashion that you do, but some of the accessories in the shop looked like things you might wear, and I thought that as the weather gets colder, you may appreciate an addition to your collection of scarves and gloves. I hope you like them. I’m sorry if you don’t.
It’s night, and I can’t sleep. Tomorrow, I will leave, and I will return soon to you. Then, I’ll give you these souvenirs, and I’ll look for some way to explain it to you, some way to explain why I am returning from Fontaine with lavish gifts meant only for you. I don’t know if you will even like them. Is it okay for me to buy you gifts? I think I miss you. I didn’t realize how long this letter was becoming until now. I believe I have overexplained myself. I want to tell you why I’m doing this, why I will enter your office tomorrow with a box of gifts that you never requested. The reason is, in truth, much simpler than all of what I wrote here.
You know it, don’t you?
Both men were silent until Pantalone’s eyes reached the signature at the bottom. He took a deep breath. “You really wrote this for me…?”
“Of course I did,” the Doctor said. “It’s clearly my handwriting.” He paused. Pantalone was not smiling. “Is something wrong?”
Pantalone’s arms wrapped tightly around his companion. “Thank you so much.” His breathing was shaky. “Thank you.”
“You already thanked me so many times. You don’t have to… Feofan, are you crying?” Il Dottore frowned. Had he done something wrong?
“No.” Pantalone wiped tears from his face.
Il Dottore gently pushed Pantalone back so he could see his face. His glasses were fogged up, and a tear rolled down his cheek as they looked at each other. The Doctor’s eyes widened in panicked concern. “What’s the matter?” He carefully removed Pantalone’s glasses and wiped tears from his face. “Did I do something to upset you?”
Pantalone shook his head and laughed weakly. “No. I’m happy, can’t you tell?” He cupped the Doctor’s face in his hands.
“But you’re crying.”
Regrator kissed him softly. “I’m really happy,” he said quietly. Tears still shined in his eyes, but he was smiling now. “I promise.”
The Doctor hugged him gently. “I guess if you promise it, I’ll believe you.” He held him close to his chest and rubbed his back.
“Zandik… No one has ever done something like this for me.”
“But you get gifts all the time.” The Doctor spoke quietly. He sounded confused.
“Not like this.” Pantalone took a deep breath. “People give me gifts because they want to win the favor of someone who controls a lot of wealth. It’s an investment on which they expect to see a return. No one has ever given me so much without expecting something in return. No one has ever put this much attention into choosing things I like. No one except for you.” His hands grasped the back of the Doctor’s jacket. “And you wrote me a letter.” A love letter. “That was so sweet. It means so much to me. You really didn’t have to do any of this.”
“But I wanted to.”
“I know.” Pantalone sighed and laid his head on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I know you did. Thank you.”
The Doctor gently combed his fingers through Pantalone’s soft hair. “You never cry,” he said quietly.
“I never cry in front of other people.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But I trust you. I trust you enough to let you do whatever surgeries and procedures you want to me. I trust you enough to let you take off my glasses, and I know that doesn’t sound like much, but I really can’t see anything without them. I trust you enough to let you see me weak.”
“I know,” the Doctor said softly. “I can tell you trust me.”
“Then, can you tell that I…” He bit his lip. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he wanted to.
“Hm?”
Pantalone was silent for a long time. Then, he took a deep breath and looked the Doctor in the eye. “Zandik, I love you.”
Il Dottore slowly smiled. “You do?”
“You’re-” Pantalone laughed and wiped a tear from his face. “You’re supposed to say it back now.”
The Doctor kissed him slowly. When their lips parted, he rested his forehead against Pantalone’s and spoke softly. “I think my letter already told you. I think the Rainbow Roses told you, too.”
“They did.” Pantalone kissed him again. “But I want to hear it from you.”
“I’ve never said it to anyone before.” Il Dottore took a slow, shaky breath. “But I want to.” Even though he knew how he felt, even though he wanted to say it out loud, the words were painfully stuck in his throat.
“It’s okay.” Pantalone’s soft hand gently caressed the Doctor’s face. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He nodded and slowly exhaled. “I love you, Feofan.”
“I love you, too.” Pantalone smiled and kissed him. “I love you so much, Zandik.”
The two Harbingers lay together in Pantalone’s bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Pantalone looked toward the bouquet, which was now sitting in a beautiful vase on the dresser. With his glasses folded onto the nightstand, he couldn’t make out the distinct shape of anything, but seeing the pop of color in his room made him feel happy. He kissed the Doctor’s forehead before speaking. “Frostlamp Flowers?”
“Hm?”
“You put those in the bouquet, did you not? I noticed when you gave it to me.”
“I did. The florist told me they carry a rather interesting connotation among some people.” The Doctor smiled. “Apostasy.”
“I suppose it is rather fitting, then.” Pantalone closed his eyes. “They’ll always remind me of you now. Goodnight. I love you.”
The lamp clicked off. “Goodnight, Feofan.” The Doctor gently kissed him. “I love you, too.”