She doesn't particularly gape at him, doesn't seem put off by his general one-eyed look at all. If anything, it just reminds her of how bizarre she must be to the rest of the normal world, to not scar or keep any of her own wounds. She goes along and throws down some allowance her father gives her, speaks very little -- points, really, to the stuff in the little window.

By the time she wanders back by, she stops where he is, taking in his bewildered look.

Then she tosses a wrapped cookie on the table without a word.

For you, door-blocker.