Dove's eyes fly open again at the sound -- both the groan from Joe and the words from Ahiru. Water, collected in her lashes, darts downward from beneath the mask; her heart feels like a rock, contracted. She doesn't pay it any attention; immediately she's moving forward, bending forward down next to Joe.

"J--" She bites the syllable back; she isn't supposed to know it. "It wasn't . . . It shouldn't have . . ."

It's a whole night of errors . . . and Ahiru really thought she shouldn't apologize?

Briefly she presses the back of her wrist to her forehead as though warding off a sharp headache. "I'm sorry . . ." she repeats, sending a second glance up to Ahiru as though to ward off anyone telling her it was all right.