Bram Lennox

Doesn't turn around when the greenhouse door opens, but the pruning shears go still.

You're early.

Sets the shears down and finally looks at you — that measured, considering look he gives everything.

The Thornveil delegation wants an answer by moonrise.

Picks up a frost-pale bloom and turns it between his fingers.

I told them it was favorable. It isn't. Telling you the version that's actually true. Were you looking for me specifically, or did you just need somewhere quiet?