The change in her voice lures a glance over the shoulder. Loss was another common thing shared between them, though Miguel never did too much personal comforting of his cohorts. He didn't have the attitude that made it easy to open up to, and that was fine. Cold distance was comfortable for him, too.

Facing the vulnerable expression on Gwen made it hard to just look away. Troubled and alone, and distant, just like that first time. Predictably, his instinct is to see her again - just the kid struggling with an overwhelming amount of emotional weight - and want to lend a hand.

"The reason I got the food was because Gabri had a sweet tooth." he begins. "She... also liked the animals in the parks. That version of Nueva York didn't have any around, otherwise."

Hence the very roughly hewn wooden figures, candy, and other childlike gifts.

"It's easier to carve them out of fruit, which is how I used to do them. Would make more of a mess if I left them out here, though."

This wasn't quite a funeral. It was a holiday meant to be celebrated, despite his lousy ability to be any kind of festive. Going through the motions and thinking about the things Gabriella loved made it a little easier to talk about. Pairing a little joy with the sadder thoughts.

"Do you remember some of Peter's favorite things?" he asks. "We still have a day."

An invitation. Maybe Gwen could also use some remembering of the nicer things.