I suppose he could have changed, Neal said dryly. I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil. The other pages snorted. Kel eyed her friend. You do look yellow around the edges, she told him, her face quite serious. I hadn’t wanted to bring it up. We daffodils like to have things brought up, Neal said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. It reminds us of spring.