Kyle glances over to her, then watches her carefully pick up the butterfly. Graceful patience compared to his own broad strokes. He stands and straightens to his full height after it flaps away, reaching his hand up into a small cluster of several flapping around. A few flap at his hand, landing for a split second before moving on. He withdraws his hand again.

"What did you do with the ones you caught?" He can sort of picture a young Alex, running through a generic field, chasing after butterflies. There's no doubt in his mind that she was good at it. She has the patience, determination, and grace to be.