“Thanks!” The smile – an expression that may have been jarring to some – came easily to Briony’s face. She had been told her drawings were good before. She had a definite knack for that kind of drawing though. The kind of knack that got under the skin and—“She’s not my sister.” The smile was gone just as quickly, despite her finding Kristen’s little stop-start kind of funny. Smiles and stuff were usually saved for demon times, when she was getting her own way or when she was using them to creep someone out. “I’m adopted. Mommy can’t have kids.” So she buys them. At least, that was how it looked from her perspective, even though she hated the thought of having been bought. “Not that I don’t like her; she doesn’t like me. Never did,” she added almost sadly. Except she really didn’t like Airla, so that didn’t matter. ‘My last sister…’ Briony gave an amused hum, toes tapping on the floor in something of a childish jig. “Airla didn’t tell. She runs from her shadow and the creaky door in the kitchen.” A beat. “’Sides, alls I do is draw.” An innocent addition coupled with a sidelong glance at Kristen. It was a lie – she did plenty of other things – but so what? “I still need to ask Daddy for a puppy,” she added absent-mindedly. She was sure she had promised Bubbles a puppy. Or something.
St-st-stutter. Her Mommy did that when she knew she’d made the pancakes wrong. Or chosen the wrong outfit for the day. Or bought her the wrong toy. She had stopped trying to stammer her way around refusals and rejections not long after the adoption. That st-st-stutter was a sign of fear. It just tickled Briony and she smirked faintly into her lunch box – an expression that only became clearer when Bubbles elaborated on what happened at the bridge. Because that was what happened when you marched for things like peace, anyhow. She did really want to know what Kristen’s sister had done to get herself hurt enough to upset her classmate like that. She was concerned. Concerned that she might be missing out on something fun. The hard stare she had pinned to the human sharpened then flickered off to the side. ‘Please’ only worked on grown-ups. ‘Please’ was good manners. ‘Please’ was a thing Briony used to twist grown-ups round her fingers because good manners were rules made to be bent and broken. ‘Please’ did not work on her. “Why?” It was as good a question as any. Why should she let go? No one had ever given an adequate reason besides the obvious fear. The fear she didn’t care about. “And I don’t know any doctors—” A lie. There was a demon head-doctor who went to Amazing Grace. “—but the dying is changing things for everyone.” She nodded sagely. “Don’t think the vampires’re going anywhere, either. They don’t even die normally… You were attacked by a vampire?” Briony’s eyes widened with curiosity. She wanted to see tears, and if she didn’t get tears she would sulk.