She picked at her burrito. It wasn't a lack of appetite, that was generally not something she succumbed to, even when different smells and textures felt new and strange. Today it was simply that her mind was elsewhere-- usually Bruce's affliction-- focused on the news they had.
Dinah smiled at Bruce's reassurances, and leaned in against him where they sat on the bench. At the name, she chuckled and shook her head. She still couldn't believe she was going to let him name their child that... nor could she really believe that it was a moot point now. They were having a boy. Samuel Thomas. Sam.
"Oh, I'm sure we're going to have to fall back on Alfred a lot." She teased, but it was with a gentle, almost excited smile. She knew she'd regret it when the time came, but at the moment, she couldn't think of anything better, anything more normal than being sleep deprived because of a fussy infant and begging his surrogate grandfather to hold him for just five minutes.
The kiss made her smile again, and she nodded. She didn't actually take him at his word-- it was one thing to say it was okay to change the Manor, but she suspected it would be a different thing entirely once paint started going up... but she did have a few ideas, and if he was okay with it, it would give her something to do... and a way to feel a little more at home in her new home.
Though it seemed like someone felt entirely less at home with her there. She looked at him for a moment, her smile slowly fading, then looked away, to the street, to her burrito, back to the street. "Oh." She said, her voice somewhat strained. She may have had an appetite before, but now it seemed to have disappeared...
"I'm sorry." She said after a long moment of not knowing what else to say, "Is there.... is there anything I can do?" Though she asked it, she already knew what the answer was: disappear. But she didn't want to put a further burden on him while he was still dealing with this-- so she didn't say that it was her fault.
There would be plenty of time to stew in guilt and self-pity when she was alone.