Dumas yanked his hand away from Mari.  He couldn’t make himself look at her -- afraid of what he might see shining in her eyes, and even more afraid of what she might see shining in his.  It had been months since he’d suffered from one of his little ‘fits’ in public.  But the strain of deceiving Mari had clearly taken its toll on his nerves.  Why was he so fucking weak?  Why couldn’t he move on and leave his past where it belonged?  Disgust welled up in Dumas’s throat like bile, until it seemed to coat his whole mouth with its sour taste.  He wanted to run downstairs and lock himself in his office.  And then he wanted to kick the living shit out of something.<br/><br/>Fortunately, Mari’s concern had not been wasted.  Although Dumas didn’t consciously acknowledge it, her gentleness touched some deep and troubled part of him, helping him regain control.  Sucking in a few deep breaths, Dumas raked his hand through his unruly curls.  Then he turned back toward Mari, managing a smile that was only a little bit forced.  “I’m sorry,” he apologized.  “I was just...somewhere else for a minute.  But I’m okay now.”<br/><br/>With grim determination, Dumas extended his hand toward Mari, waiting for her to put the necklace back in it.  After everything he’d been through, he wasn’t going to let himself be defeated by a piece of jewelry.  “Let me try again,” he insisted.  “I won’t drop it this time.”