[ this is a silence. it's not awkward; but he feels awkward anyway. shifts, ever so slightly, from one foot to another -- which is not something he usually does, ever the meditator and capable of standing in one position for hours without feeling restless. but the present feels like it's burning a hole in his hands.
after a beat, he says ]
This is yours.
[ and then shoves it at her. he's been keeping it behind his back, but it is rectangular and on the small side. when she opens it, she will find a photograph of herself with Komui in a nice polished mahogany frame. it's a happy picture; you're both smiling. ]