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Who is this sassy lost child
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((Taking over Bridgette from Aloha))

And so Henry was gone too, with some vague statement about being needed elsewhere. Maybe it was nice, to feel like people needed you.

Bridgette didn't think anyone here needed her, not since Danny. She'd done a pretty good job of convincing herself that she didn't need anyone else either. The people who couldn't get by without relying on someone else were the people that would fall sooner rather than later.

Bryony, for example, looking lost and sad just because two odd and not particularly friendly people had left them. Bridgette crossed her arms, scuffing her boot against the dock. How was she holding up? She was alive, and that was significantly better than a lot of other people already. She wasn't hurt or sick, hadn't let the loss of her friends - whether they lost their lives or their humanity - cripple her. She was healthy and strong and smart, and her only real disadvantage was that she didn't have a real weapon for intimidation or defense. All in all, Bridgette was pretty sure that she was at least doing better than Bryony.

"I'm okay, I guess," she said finally. "You don't look like you're doing so hot, though," she added almost thoughtlessly. Well. It was true, even if it wasn't nice, and Bryony probably knew it. If she was looking for comfort and sugarcoating in Bridgette, she was barking up the wrong tree.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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In This Starless Night · Docks