[She's never liked his silence because she knows that when he's not running his mouth, he's in his own head. Better to hear some sometimes harsh or unpleasant things than that. So, after a few moments of marching through the snow, she speaks again with a glance in his direction.]

I did always like hearing what you had to say. Still do. I always felt you were more honest when you told me things. Didn't have a reason to impress me or protect my delicate feelings.