"Oh." Sunshine takes the flower - hell, what else is she supposed to do? - and directs her smile up at him. "Um. Thank you." It's… sweet of him? Presuming you don't think too hard about the fact that it's the equivalent of… what, a hair? Don't think about it, Sunshine.

Except now she feels like she ought to give him something (her ability to vaguely understand him doesn't count). What do you give a talking tree? What would a tree-person want?

The same thing she does, probably. And she can't just inject him with sunlight the way Aziraphale could. She twirls the flower's stem between her fingertips. brow furrowed, and then inspiration strikes. "Here," she says, tucking the flower behind one ear so she can use both hands to dig into her pocket for her little knife. "It's not as good as the real thing, but it's better than nothing."

Her fingers close around the jackknife, and she pulls it out of her pocket and cups it in her hands. It's not that dark here, but it's dark enough; the knife glows a warm, comforting gold, the light streaming out between her fingers like the sun breaking through cloud cover. "Sunshine," she explains with a wry smile.