"Doctor, tell me, what flowers do you like? Peonies or roses? I'm making a new batch of plastic toys and it's vital to know."
"What are you up to?"
"I think this yourself would rather like peonies — as pompous as you, your jabot and other frills are, right, Doctor?"
"Master, whatever you are planning, the Nestenes—"
"Or maybe roses? Immortal tellurian classics," the voice on the other end of the line drawled broodingly.
The Doctor squeezed the handset angrily, hoping that the brigadier was smart enough to track the call, although it was useless.
"I prefer classics."
"The roses? Splendid."