His eyes- his eye tracks her as best he can on her approach. It isn't even that the right is a ruin, cut and full of blood and slowly mending as a cateract. No amount of blinking or rinsing has given him back the vision, no amount of healing cured it. Still he tries and it gives him a headache but- she sits, he allows it. She leans and he- he does not flinch. He carefully does not flinch, outwardly appearing calm, but his shoulder against her is knotted tight.

The flower is startling enough to coax out a frown. There had not been flowers in...

He reaches out to take it, turning the stem between his fingers. No poisonous. Not a weapon. A new shade of the game?