She glanced away as he winced, finding something else to look at, scratching idly at a spot somewhere behind her ear as if she'd been struck by an interesting and compelling thought which tore her attention away – which, being who she was, couldn't have been too great an imaginative leap, right? Not at all as if she was deliberately averting her gaze so as to avoid saying and / or doing something stupid.
“Which is your way of saying you know and you're going to be smug and intolerab...” she started, still not looking at him. That seemed to be the done thing where they were concerned, pointedly 'not-looking' at each other as long as possible, as if it had become some sort of competition between them as to who could resist the longest... though she lost this round rather spectacularly, trailing off when he handed over the bag, her eyes shooting back to him, searching for something in expression or posture to contextualise the gesture and finding nothing. The bag lay there between them, where he'd pushed it, just far enough that she'd have to actually reach for it, for a moment or two the next subject of a gaze increasingly clouded with confusion, her hand stopping just short as if worried it would bite her, or the table would turn into a portal to hell, or any one of a million scenarios which were all unlikely and horrific but somehow less awkward than accepting a gift from her reincarnated and newly-crippled ex-lover.
Things didn't exactly become much easier when she did reach for it. The rose sat in the palm of her hand, her thumb stroking the wood absently, a slight smile playing on her lip... for the split second before she dismissed it, though the idle caresses continued unabated.
“I never brought you roses, Nim.” Her tone wasn't guilty; if anything it was accusatory, hinting that she suspected some ulterior motive, that gesture had to be born of something more complicated like wanting to make her feel awkward (if so, she had to commend it on its success). Enfys slipped the carving back into the bag, as much as it pained her to do so because she didn't want to have to hide it; already the parts of her brain not concentrating on keeping up appearances were mentally re-organising her desk to give it pride of place. “Shouldn't you be making things to sell rather than give to old fools?”
Would it have killed her to say 'thanks, it's beautiful, I love it'? Probably. Hence why she didn't.