The naivete of this girl makes him grin despite himself; makes his fingers unconsciously give hers a squeeze. It's the sort of plan a child much younger than her would've come up with, like covering your eyes with the idea that if you couldn't see the person you were hiding from, then they couldn't see you.

"I'm not sure that's gonna work, kiddo," he tells her, as gently as he can. "I ain't no botanist, but I'm pretty sure there's not many six-foot-four, two hundred pound flowers out there in the world. Unless you count Audrey II, I guess."