[Abigail sinks down onto the floor, resting her elbows on her crossed legs, her chin on her hands. It would be cowardly to look away from Alana now. She can't be a coward, not when she had a hand in this. She can't afford to let Alana get away from this situation with anything other than complete certainty in the truth of her words, either. Alana can't afford that. She'll die, and she'll die ugly, if she doesn't learn how to protect herself.]
[There's no way Abigail could know the significance of the beer in the fridge, but it seems to mean something important to Alana, so she doesn't interrupt. Not at first. She just watches, remembering the woman who read to her in her coma, who did her utmost to protect her despite her own disinterest in being protected, and comparing her to this woman here. Betrayal is an ugly thing, she thinks. She can't go near Hannibal anymore.]
[It feels, weirdly, like her parents are fighting.]
[She leans her head against a chair leg and sighs.]
spam
[There's no way Abigail could know the significance of the beer in the fridge, but it seems to mean something important to Alana, so she doesn't interrupt. Not at first. She just watches, remembering the woman who read to her in her coma, who did her utmost to protect her despite her own disinterest in being protected, and comparing her to this woman here. Betrayal is an ugly thing, she thinks. She can't go near Hannibal anymore.]
[It feels, weirdly, like her parents are fighting.]
[She leans her head against a chair leg and sighs.]