He heard the voice before he saw her and then he grinned as he moved around a case. She'd come. He wasn't sure she would (and he knew she'd not have if she'd know it was him asking) but she was there and he was entirely pleased about this. Clearing his throat, he tugged at the hem of his shirt. 

"Erm," he said, nerves suddenly shooting through him as he halted before her. "Um, so...uh, it was...I, um...I'm glad you came," he managed to spit out, utterly horrified at his sudden inability to speak properly. In his head he was smooth as butterbeer, why he couldn't ever seem to be like that when he was around her drove him nuts.

"Don't go?" he added, his voice cracking a touch. Again, not at all what he'd meant to say. Even as those words were still in the air, he was a flurry of motion and tugged out a rather mashed up bunch of flowers he'd stolen from the Greenhouse early that evening. Holding the sad little thing out, he offered her a smile.