Her hand keeps there, falling into step with him. Her face turning to look at him, where she cannot open her eyes - so that he might know he has her full attention. "Which is your favourite flower for the smell?"

A naive question, maybe, or just a simple one. Removed from every other bit of misery at present but easier for it. Perhaps selfish because - "Only, it's beauty might be otherwise lost on someone half blind, I'm afraid."