Leonard had seen her but not paid attention until she spoke. The water had not helped his pain, and the buds on his skin are beginning to swell with ripeness. They're nearly ready to bloom. But he stops rubbing at his skin to look at her.

"And I suppose that would be the sentiment of many of the others if they saw me here," he says.

For his own part, he's not entirely sure. He rubs his arms again, stripping various flower buds away with his vigorous motions. The buds drop into the water and new ones begin to grow to take their place—again.

"On second thought," he mutters.