"Don't think you got nothing to be sorry for, chica," Marcus told her, but he also withdrew the hand he'd had at the ready to help her up. She knew the other guy by name, and would probably be more comfortable with him actually touching her. If someone else walked up, it would be all too easy to misconstrue the situation if Marcus had his hands on a crying woman, and there was no guarantee that she'd come to his defense if she were emotionally distraught. Hell, she might even think he was assaulting her or something if he took her arm without warning. Best to leave it to someone who was a friend, or at least an actual acquaintance.
He looked her over, still scanning for signs of injury. He was making an effort not to let his hackles raise at the other man's presence. There was faint recognition there, and he didn't think he'd done anything to get on that guy's bad side, or anything like that, but he still didn't know the man. It wouldn't have mattered to him if he'd been caught doing anything else, but it bothered him a little whenever he was witnessed giving a shit by strangers. "That all you dropped? You didn't fall?"
That was a relief. Even pregnant, she didn't look like she'd be difficult to carry to the infirmary, especially with another person helping, but there'd been enough emergencies of late. He met the other man's eyes and kind of gestured with his head as if to say, go on, hombre, help your friend stand up. Marcus was torn between straightening up and walking away, himself, or staying and helping with the mess. Still in his crouched position, he uncertainly picked up one of the items that had rolled out of her reach and placed it in the box for her, not really looking at it.
"Thought you might've sprained an ankle or something." Marcus knew, logically, that he didn't need to defend stooping to help a woman who'd dropped her things. He did it, anyway.