[ As Augustine speaks, he demonstrates a demeanor that Dimitri rarely saw in his home country, where men are so often as harsh and solemn as their winters. He's... dignified. Studied in subjects like flowers and the poetry in things.

It's an interesting change of pace. He considers the flowers; overall, they look cute and cheerful despite the wilting. Who could've known how much more meaning there is in a little bundle of blooms? He winces very slightly at Augustine's conjecture. ]

Are you certain you're not a clairvoyant and not a botanist? [ ... ] My mind is always on the people I have left behind.

[ For a number of reasons. It sounds like the flowers have managed to capture a bit of his genuine feelings, ones he tries to set aside until later. ]

But the present demands attention. I think this affliction is an ominous tiding for everyone. [ Maybe there's a hundred people coughing up these dog roses. ] Do you have any idea what might be the cause...? I've never seen plants take root inside someone before.

[ Maybe It's Faeries ]