It takes him a moment to realize he's left her behind, caught up (dangerously, painfully) in the trap of his own memories with no need for a psychedelic bug bite. The rise of her muttering to distinct (if somewhat odd) words catches his attention and he turns, keeping an eye on her as unobtrusively as he can. There's no immediate indication that she's changed for the better, but this is definitely a change, and he watches her pacing nervously. How's he going to get her to walk with him again? Some of the words are familiar, some are not, but if she's getting lost in some new way...

And then he hears his name and makes himself turn his eyes to hers. He only holds it for a moment. Long enough. Caught on the edge of his worry over her and the looming menace of things he can't let himself remember too vividly, the sudden turn for the better feels discordant. He almost doesn't believe it, and a rare, nervous quirk to his lips is something like a smile, but not quite. "Jyn."