Caspar is heading towards a row devoted entirely to tulips, seemingly in every shade. Caspar naturally gravitates towards to the orange ones, but when he looks over their warm, sun-kissed shade, his gaze turns haunted and he moves on to a different row entirely.

"Half-Vulcan," he repeats. A faint smirk tugs at his mouth. "We don't have anything like you where I'm from, either. What's that like? Can't be too different from each other if you're genetically compatible."