Must de Cartier. He had identified it when she had walked into the room, before he had seen her and all of her moonstone skin. And since there had been nothing between her skin and his coat, that scent permeated it. For days when he put it on, took it off, or moved the right way, there would be that bright green fragrance, underscored by vanilla and the faint smell of her adrenaline soaked sweat (and something more delicate) until finally it blended with his own and on a particularly warm day he dropped the coat off at the cleaner's.