Uhh. [He has a few brightly-colored zinnia in one hand, though he would probably be lucky to tell a daisy from a rose - or whatever he was holding or what the other guy held in his own hand. Back on Mars, most of these things were more metaphorical than literal.] No idea. That's what I wanted to ask -

[He's turned his attention away from the person he was talking to and back to the fortune teller's booth. While the attendant was still focused on the gaggle of girls and giving each a certain flowers to varying emotional responses, he's noticed something else on the table: a small group of metallic cards labeled with a piece of paper that read their purpose.]

Oh. [He looks back to the other young man.] Looks like we can buy one of these things. They can apparently tell you the fortune of whatever flowers you're given.

[...What a money-making scheme.]