She looks like she's fairly laden down with packages. Must have a lot of people to shop for. As she leans closer - so close she's practically whispering in his ear - he can just make out the faintest wisp of coconut with little difficulty. "Oh," he replies, a trace of color rising in his cheeks. "Told you my Spanish was bad," Grant adds, trying to play off his embarrassment.

He looks at the packages again, then at the concrete. "Uh oh," Grant says, bending down, retrieving a small, glittering box, handing it to her. "Glad no one made off with this. Um...you need any help carrying any of that, Fi...err...Bea?"