While they were picking the flowers, Rose would pick several sprigs of lavender and stems of orchid to give the bouquet a more exotic look.

As they arrive at the hospital, Rose couldn't believe how badly the condition of the man really was. When she saw the punch mark, she certainly did remember the professor striking the man. The professor had already earned quite a few bad marks in her book so far and truly began to wonder if Willet really was the bad guy she thought him to be..

As she looked at the man's wounds, Dexter was probably already aware of the gypsy's racing mind for herbal remedies to sneak in to the man. He held some of the answers to some of her questions regarding the strange phenomenon to happen and regardless of what the nurse said of his recovery, Rose refused to accept this as by the time the nurse assumed his recovery, they might all be dead from this future threat. She HAD to do something...

Rose held Dexter's hand, but as the nurse left, she'd move to the man's bedside. Almost matriarch-like, she'd reach a hand out and gently smooth the crippled man's hair out, then fix his pillow a bit while he was sleeping, so that he might be more comfortable. Clearly, Rose was thinking the man a Nazi less and less...and began to question the true meanings behind his actions from when she had met him previously in the past.

He seems well cared for. The best money could buy in fact.

He certainly appeared Western European, but did not have any tell-tale stereotypical 'German' features. Willet looked peaceful in fact and it was hard to believe this was the raging pugnacious man she had met in the past.

Utilizing her medical skills, she can tell that there is nothing more that can be done for that man. He simply needs rest and extensive rehabilitation after he is released. Given his advanced age (7o's) He won't likely fully recover. The herbs that she has smuggled in will likely decrease his recovery time, and she knows shes done the best that she can.

Dexter looks devastated by the state of his friend, but maintains a stiff upper-lip. He was not prone to weeping and has known misery and pain as familiar companions throughout his life.
He pats his friend on the shoulder and takes notice of the fist-print bruise in his chest. He looks quite angry for a moment before he calms himself by rubbing roses partially exposed shoulder.

"Let's go home Rose. I think it would be best for our minds for us to share a bottle of wine together and then see what else we can find to distract ourselves for the long cold night." He says with a half-smile. His sentiment is honest as is his desire, but its obvious that he is masking his fury and heart-break. Men were funny like that.

After assessing his features more carefully, now that she could get a better look at him, her heart sunk slightly as she realized he wasn't a german. Was she any better a person than those here or in Europe that assumed her a 'river rat' or a 'lady of the night' when she was neither? She definitely felt like she owed the man a fair bit for misjudging him as well as informing her love of the dangers ahead. She would make sure from this day on, to visit him almost daily, and eventually earn the man's friendship.

Rose could tell, with barely any signs shown, how much it hurt Dexter to see his friend like this. She at least knew the man responsible for the blow, but didn't dare speak it as this was a bit of a fragile time for her beau. As she felt his hand upon her shoulder, she'd turn her gaze to him, then give a nod as she'd rise to her feet. "Yes, I agree. De' man needs rest, end' vee' should leave him to eet'. Eh' bottle ov' wine sounds just perfect."

After being at St. Mary's for about an hour they return to Dexter's Domicile to enjoy the night in. The temperatures plummet that night bringing a fresh coat of ice and frost to Arkham Beach. However the happy young couple don't seem to notice.