Shen Qingqiu is not really sure what a catechism is, only that it's vaguely Catholic, probably? It remains deeply weird to meet Christians again after only spending time among Fantasy Bullshit Taoism for so long. "Alright," he says. "Well, if food is out, the other classic apology thing is flowers, right?" He gestures around them, smiling. "And—hang on."
He fishes around inside the qiankun bag in his sleeve and pulls out a book. His conversation with Laertes—rosemary for remembrance—had spurred an idle curiously for the meaning of herbs, and the library had been happy to provide... kind of. He lays a copy of the Victorian Language of Flowers out on the table for Galahad.1 "Maybe we can find a way to say what you wish to with this?"
1 Who may notice that it is way too thick and heavy to have been comfortably carried in a sleeve, even as spacious a sleeve as Shen Qingqiu's.
no subject
He fishes around inside the qiankun bag in his sleeve and pulls out a book. His conversation with Laertes—rosemary for remembrance—had spurred an idle curiously for the meaning of herbs, and the library had been happy to provide... kind of. He lays a copy of the Victorian Language of Flowers out on the table for Galahad.1 "Maybe we can find a way to say what you wish to with this?"
1 Who may notice that it is way too thick and heavy to have been comfortably carried in a sleeve, even as spacious a sleeve as Shen Qingqiu's.