"They… match your eyes."
The words come out before I think about how they might land.
Rhayne stands still in front of the case. The violet of the earrings reflects in her eyes, but it's the red climbing up her cheeks that catches my attention. She opens her mouth, seems to search for an answer, and ends up turning her face toward the inside of the shop.
"My eyes," she repeats quietly.
"That's what I said."
The answer doesn't help.
Rhayne brings a hand to her hair, toys with a strand, and lets it go again. The silence between us takes on a strange shape, and I realize she understood that choice in a way that hadn't crossed my mind while I was looking for equipment.
The seller is a middle-aged Diver woman, gray hair pinned in a low bun, small round lenses perched on the tip of her nose. Maybe a retired Rank D.
I ask her to open the case.
