Mulcahy unconsciously voices Finnick's private thought, because it's occurred to him, too, and he always does like to find the various potential reasons for things. It's an intellectual exercise he values. "Perhaps they simply grow fast? There is an entirely new world out there we know nothing about, although with the scholars in our midst we may be able to learn something soon."

The purple flower is taken gently from Finnick's hand and studied, his head tilting slightly as he brow furrows as he tries to take it all in. "This looks familiar, like several flowers from home, but I can't say I-"

He stops when the scent drifts to him: old paper, a hint of clean dust, freshly washed linens, and two incenses that seem to mingle in the air. The priest blinks in surprise as a mental picture overlaps his sight for a moment, entirely not real but evoked by that scent, a picture of the office in the church where he'd served as a deacon.

"...What is that?"