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Who is this sassy lost child
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Fiyori - ghost or flesh, Georgia Lee wasn't entirely sure - laughed at her. Of course she did. She asked who had done this, presumably so that she could go and give them a congratulations later on. Predators and hunters, all of them.

"Blair," Georgia Lee said finally, and she was again surprised at how weak her own voice was.

She leaned against the wall, trying to watch Fiyori warily, but she couldn't quite get her eyes to focus. Or perhaps Fiyori wasn't really there.

Perhaps it was all a bad dream, Georgia Lee thought to herself with a sour sort of amusement. This whole lousy week was a dream, and soon she would wake up in her own boring bed, in her own boring house, with her own boring, terrible older sister and her own boring parents. She had never embraced boredom, but she supposed she might welcome the familiarity for a little while.
"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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I know exactly what I want and who I want to be. · Doctors’ Offices