Mary's coworker at her Dark Matter Studies Lab wears an oddly familiar perfume, and in the interest of not being creepy, Will doesn't try and ask her about where she'd bought it. Regardless, as he's sorting through data at eleven at night, he catches a waft of it in the air, and thinks of Lyra's sweet red lips against his.

Right. There had been roses in that beautiful field tended to by the mulefa.