More robots emerged, placing small buckets beneath a cluster of bell-shaped flowers that hung from nearby vines. The flowers were heart-shaped—or rather, the bells were heart-shaped, creating a romantic silhouette against the foliage.
Is it the flowers?
The humming intensified, and Neville watched in fascination as the flowers began to... cry.
Transparent liquid welled up inside each bell, gathering at the bottom before spilling over. The droplets fell into the waiting buckets with soft plinking sounds, and as they did, a scent filled the air.
Vanilla. Pure, sweet vanilla.
"Vanilla?!" Neville shot to his feet, excitement overriding caution.
His knees hit the table before them. Pain radiated up his legs, but momentum carried him forward anyway. He stumbled, arms windmilling, balance completely lost—
—and fell directly onto Grayson's lap.
Time seemed to slow down. Neville became acutely aware of several things simultaneously:
