[Both her soft modesty and her quietness make him frown. It's very different for him. He's usually the one who is sitting in judging silence while someone else fills the void with chattering. This is uncomfortable... but being uncomfortable is better.

It makes him take the time to think about how she feels rather than what she saying.] It's fine. I assumed covering my hand would help. I was going to take one to study later, and I should have retrieved it with something else.

[For a long moment, he's quiet too. His eyes drift back to the flower on the ground, then to the rest of them.]

It was my father. The man. It was... a memory.