[He still gets letters from Holst pretty often, even despite his self-imposed blackout on letting his best buddy ever find out anything about where he is, what he's doing, or just how up to his eyeballs in debt he might be at any given moment. It's probably only to be expected, given the far reach of the Gonerils; Holst might just be one of the few lords in the Alliance who even could have him tracked down with impunity, and not risk the wrath of Duke Gloucester.

Or, like. Maybe Hilda just told him. That's probably the more likely thought.

Regardless, his most recent letter had turned up with a gift inside — a packet of good old Almyran pine needles for making tea out of, but with a couple of seed pods tucked away inside, too. Maybe that was just an accident. Probably he should've just tossed them and enjoyed his tea.

But something inside him drove him to the greenhouse anyway — maybe some weird ache of nostalgia for fond memories he's left behind, or maybe just the strange desire to keep a piece of Holst close at hand, when his best friend is now and always so damn far away.]

Hey. You're, uh...that guy, right? The Prince of Faerghus's guy. How's it going?

[He says, cheerfully, utterly unmindful of the fact that the greenhouse is typically kept quiet, and that idle passerby typically don't talk to the Duscur man who likes to spend time there.]

Don't mind me. I just came in here to plant something, is all.