Re: [Outside AyB: Mari, Dinah, Beckett]
Dinah knew the guilt deeply, and she was sorry. Beck already worried double the amount for both of them, she shouldn't be adding to it. She should have known better. She took in a deep breath from where she stood and glanced over to the woman, named Marisol. Marisol was a pretty name, another new combination of syllables to grace Dinah's ears. When the deep, dark eyed shopkeeper reassured, offering the necklace Dinah opened her mouth, but Beck was already speaking. Dinah's lips pursed to one side, nodding. He wasn't wrong, they didn't have the money---that was the whole point of coming into town; find a way to make some money.
Everything had a price.
Her eyes drifted back to Beck. His cheeks were slightly flushed. Also her fault. He was overheated from worry, stress--so instinctively she crossed the room in quick strides, she didn't reach out for his hand this time but she placed hers on his right shoulder: steadying, anchor, weight, reminder. She could feel heat radiating through the fabric of his shirt--not too hot, thankfully. He didn't need to say sorry to her. He truly didn't.
"Sorry," her gaze rose from her brother's eyes back to Marisol. How strange the pair must seem. Suspicious, too. She wouldn't blame her if she didn't want them in the shop anymore. That would be a pity if it were so. Dinah truly liked it, even more than the delicate necklace. And despite herself she wanted to hear more, about Art Deco, about the woman the jewelry once belonged to.
"We're job hunting today." That was normal, right? "I shouldn't have wandered off." Her hand was now on Beck's upper back as he had done for her time and time again. Steadying, anchor, weight, reminder.