Despite her recent personal failings (and, oh, they were never far from her conscious mind-- it was no good, the way Wes was looking at her) Rehab was still dressed impeccably. She would never fit in at The Highway, not in her pink and white dress and cloak style jacket. She pulled off her white gloves and stuck them in her pocketbook after entering the store. She pulled her gaze from Wes to Marijuana when he came out from around the back. Not that looking at him provided any more comfort.
"Marc," she greeted him with the slightest of hitches in her voice. Maybe this hadn't been the best of ideas. She shifted the small basket she held on the crook of her elbow. It was filled to the brim with homemade baked goods and a sympathy card sat on top. Mira shifted in her heels, looking more than a little uncomfortable. "I wanted to come by and offer my condolences."
Mira fell silent again before thrusting the basket out in front of her. "Here, I brought this for you. He was really very young. Dave, I mean, too young to pass."