Dottore is by no means a romantic man.

However, Pantalone's office is full of beautiful and unique flowers encased in glass domes. One would ask - does he love flowers? Did he get them from his contractors?

No.

Every time Dottore was sent on a mission, he came back with a gift. A gift for the greedy banker, who can estimate the value of every object he sees. While flowers are fragile and wither quickly, they hold little to no value at all, they still decorate Pantalone's office. Every one of them encapsulated in the stasis, frozen in the full bloom.

The click of Pantalone’s polished shoes echoed softly through the hall as he pushed open the heavy door to his office. The familiar scent of parchment, ink, and faint traces of frost greeted him. Everything was as it should be—documents neatly arranged on his desk, ledgers awaiting his attention—except for the unmistakable presence of something new.

He paused, gloved fingers brushing against the edge of his coat as he crossed the room, his movements unhurried yet deliberate. The flower inside was unlike any of the others—a pale blue so delicate it bordered on silver, the petals curling inward like a secret being kept. A species he didn’t recognize, which was saying something.

Dottore had been away, of course. No one else would dare leave such a thing here without announcement, let alone permission. Pantalone traced a gloved fingertip along the edge of the dome, noting the meticulous craftsmanship, the precise way the bloom was preserved. It was flawless. Of course, it was flawless.

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, sharp and unreadable. “Subtlety was never your strong suit, Doctor,” he murmured to the empty room. Yet there was no mistaking the care behind the gesture, the peculiar intimacy of being thought of, even in the unlikeliest of ways.