[ Gray can hear the uncertainty in his voice, and it tugs her loose from her tightly wound shame. Just enough to feel a different sort of shame. When it comes to things like this, she becomes all too aware of how self-absorbed she can become, as if her fears were worth dwelling on. Turning inward only makes other people worry.

Amos, ever thoughtful, is a case in point. Gray schools her breathing into regularity and her expression into calm before turning her head to look at him with a tenuous smile — grateful at least that he's doing his best for her. At times like these, her hood really is an asset. ]

If you don't mind... that would probably be for the best.

[ She hates to impose, but she'd hate even more for the flowers to die. And speaking of the flowers... ]

This is the patch, right here. And this one next to it belongs to Rin.

[ Gray's is a modest plot, not as expertly vibrant or exotic as some of the others in the greenhouse, but it's cozy with soft flowers and fragrant with herbs. There's a little crop of powder blue flowers that might be familiar to Amos; either way, Gray crouches to touch them lightly, a bit of warmth easing her smile. ]

Thank goodness... These bloomed nicely. I wasn't sure if they'd do as well here.