[ Something subtle shifts in her expression — like she's a little surprised to hear him say the word sorry. And it makes her chest twinge uncomfortably. That shouldn't be for her. ]

Don't. [ Apologize. ] Not with me. It wasn't a fucking criticism. That's not what I —

[ An exhale, as she lifts a hand to tiredly push her hair back from her face. A half-beat. Then, she empties her cup too. Maybe it's the slight burn of the alcohol that adds a bit of rough edge to her voice when she tries again: ]

We all gave a damn, that's all. Sometimes it's nice to remember people give a damn.