Lyall smiles; it's a bit of a wistful one, partly because of the sadness of sending a token to someone who might not receive it, and partly because he's been in that position before. Not with Biffy: thankfully, their positions in the pack and the trajectory of idle attraction, to packmate bond, to physical affection and then to relationship had skipped right over the breathless unrequited stage. It's more often these days that the depth of his emotion catches him off guard.

But he's very old.

And he smiles because it's a bit lovely, too, and he says as much. "I hope he does. It's lucky you have a taste for the arts," he adds more lightly, eyes crinkling at the corner. "I think if I had sent a beau a particularly beautiful excerpt on physics, they might not understand."