Is this a trap? She stares at him in silence for a moment, shifting her grip so she can wipe her nose on her sleeve and force down the urge to sniffle. He hasn't done anything, and even if he had, crying never helps.

Maybe he's going to throw it when she gets close. She wipes her nose again and sets her jaw in determination -- whatever he's going to do, she's going to be brave and face it. She can't get down and get away without going past him anyway, and she's not going to show him how scared she is by running before he's done anything. Slowly she picks her way down through the branches, carefully covering the relatively short distance between them.

"Give it?" she requests when she's close enough to hold out a hand, though she doesn't look him in the eye as she makes the request. "Please," she belatedly remembers to tack on.