Lyall isn't sure he understands the question, but he follows over, picking his way carefully so as to avoid crumpling the flowers underfoot. They're weeds, likely, not tended flowers, but as a creature a bit closer to nature than mortals, and moreover as a student of biology, he has a specific aversion to tromping through something that might impart use to the ecosystem.

"Goodness," he says, an understatement of an expression, and leans down further to push aside the flowers next to it. "You were very serious. I've never seen anything like it." He draws back to look at the flowers and their shape, growing in the yard. "There oughtn't be enough room..."

He reaches to touch the honeycomb, experimentally. If he's stung, it'll heal quickly enough.