Devorah's gaze flicks over Gabrielle, from the pregnancy to her expression and then to Virgil's. Not a lot of what she's thinking shows on her face, and she doesn't necessarily want to presume or intrude, but Virgil's reaction is suggestive of some serious awkwardness. And look, if nothing else, Devorah is confident in her appeal as an accessory, as something that looks good and makes other people look good by proximity. So she blandly tucks herself closer to Virgil, near enough that it's not just casually friendly, not so near it's outright disruptive or showing off, because she knows how far she can push this.
"Hi," she says, extending a hand, "I'm Devorah. I love your dress."