It's a peaceful thing, to just pick berries with someone, and as loquacious as Horvath seems he's not bothered by a stretch of companionable silence, either. He picks the best berries he finds, and only eats a couple, because he's not worried about being able to get them again the way she might be. His fingers stain a little with berry juice, and the thorns snag at him once in a while, but there's something pleasantly nostalgic about the activity.

When she pauses and peers, Horvath leans over a little to look, too. "Praying mantis. They eat other insects, keep the pests that might eat the berries under control."