Shen Yuan nods back, and sets the crown of myrtle on Galahad's head, turning it to suit him best like he had the flowers in the greenhouse when they'd first figured out how to talk without words. He's glad they have a new way, now—he can sign beautiful, happy to Galahad without breaking his pleased and wondering silence—but he's glad they have that first language, too, glad to know, when he steps back to look at his friend, that he's seeing Galahad crowned in love.

Ah, he's becoming such a sap in his old age!! He has to turn away, back to his canvas, so Galahad won't see him tearing up. He busies himself with deciding how to stage him, then remembers: G-flower-choice. He turns back around to gesture at all the furniture and repeat that last sign—choice, as in, you choose.