Honestly, he probably wouldn't want to be able to pick all that up on her. It smells like decay and death, of fallen leaves and musty wood. Even with him saying things are fine, she wanders over to help with the clean-up. Eleanor crouches as she answers him, picking up the larger pieces first to nestle the smaller ones into.

"Eleanor Vance," a gentle clink of the lamp shards hitting one another, "I woke up maybe...five minutes ago? They left us a letter, I did something with it..." She glances over her shoulder as she finishes that statement, looking for the paper. "Ah, over here."

She picks it up and holds it out to him, not yet realizing he's blind, "Here."