The girl froze, hands clasped in front of her, obviously not comfortable with this confrontation. One of her colleagues answered for her, saying, "She's been like this since that girl went missing," and shrugging like it was a static part of life now and not some trauma to be concerned about. After all, they were here to study dead people, not be so gushy about the living.
That was when the quiet one finally spoke up for herself, obviously offended by the callousness, even stomping her little foot. "She had a name!" she exclaimed in a shrill voice, and the other student took a step back, hands up defensively. The boy rolled his eyes again, suggesting this was also par for the course. The quiet one went on; "She was taken and nobody even cares!"
"Oh, hell, don't tell the circus people your mad story now," the boy whined. "She's more loony than you," he promised to the costumed freaks.
"I'm not!" she replied, looking like she was going to cry, then looked around wildly for somewhere to hide from this abuse. There was a tent who's canvas door flapped with a cool fan from inside which she bolted towards.