[ except that the staring at her hands is more then telling in and of itself. Setting aside the shirt, he steps away to the desk, opening up a drawer and reaching in for a charm wrapped up in brown paper. It's not long before he returns, walking silently across the floor before he's dropping it into her hands. ]
This is yours.
[ and with luck, from him, it might matter. He is no less holding his breath then she had been. ]