*stares down at the bag in her hands and then up at you, uncomprehending, opening her mouth to demand that you stay the hell away from her, when suddenly your words begin to sound familiar—not right, not by a long shot, but familiar in a way she can't quite put her finger on* *until:*
You were brave enough for both of us.
*sucks in her breath and puts it all together (grandmother / cookies / dancer)* Oh my god. Oh, god. *looks up at you, startled and disbelieving* But you. You can't be. You can't. He was so... no, you were in blue, I remember. And he wasn't so tall. (He was perfect.) *her expression crumpling with new pain, new dismay* But. How do you know...?