Log:Cocoa and Sympathy

Cocoa and Sympathy
"I don't think she knows how cruel that was."
Participants Amity, Briar, Nathania	28 December, 2019 After a fight with Mavis, Amity finally decides to pay a visit to the Blackbirds, where she bares her true feelings about the situation.
Location The Vardo
The weather outside has become slightly less terrible overnight. The freezing rain has stopped, at least, and things are /slightly/ warmer, even if there is fog hanging around. Anyone coming through the woods to find the vardo will have a /slightly/ less terrible time of it than they otherwise might, as a result. Still, it's much preferable to be inside, right now, particularly since the vardo is still full of the warm, comforting smell of fresh gingerbread. Last night's gingerbread house test run was a rousing success, and Briar and Nathania have spent most of today building on that to create a veritable army of gingerbread men to go with it. The baking isn't /quite/ finished, though there's already plenty of plates piled high with them; the oven still has another batch going, and there are supplies on the counter ready to make more. Clearly, they intend to be giving these out somewhere. There are far too many for two Lost to eat alone. But, for the moment, there's no particular demand for effort or attention. They're just waiting for the timer on the oven to go off, so each of them has taken up their own methods of quiet relaxation while they wait for it. Briar is seated on the floor, cross-legged, with his hands folded into an intricate triangular pattern in his lap and his one eye shut. He's utterly, absolutely still, save for the slow movement of his breathing, and, if one watches /very/ closely, the occasional, rhythmic movement of his lips, as though he's saying something too quietly to be heard. For her part, Nathania is knitting and waiting for the timer to go off. Two minutes. She revels in the silence, working on an adorable something in squishy, plush yarn. Nearby, a Velveteen Rabbit and a Patchwork Girl of Oz pair of toys are cuddled up togther, looking adorable. She smiles fondly at Briar as she works before looking down for a particularly complicated stitch. Amity was exhausted. She had cried herself empty the night before and still wasn't sure what was happening in her own head. But she had been convinced to go talk to the Blackbirds and so here she was. Her car pulls up outside the vardo, wheels crunching on gravel. The Lost woman sits inside for a few minutes, head resting on the wheel as she tries to work herself up, then finally steps out of the car and walks up to the door of the vardo. Fitting for Nathania to live in a place like this. She reaches out and raps against the door. When someone finally opens the door, she stands there looking haggard. No make up, hair mussed, wrapped in her winter coat and red-eyed from the tears she'd shed. "Hello," is about all she manages. Nathania hears the knock. Leaving the cookies to Briar, Nat stands, and sets her knitting aside. When she sees Amity upon answering, her reply is just to say, "Hello, Amity," and open her arms. Briar's ears twitch for a moment at the sound of an approaching car, and the following footsteps, but he doesn't open his eye until the knocking happens. He doesn't get up - he knows Nathania well enough to expect that she's the one who will greet others at the door, as she's the one that more of the people in the area are familiar with - but he does cock his head to one side and watch, curious to see who's on the other side. When Amity comes into view, though, and he gets a look at her disheveled appearance, he's up as well, unfolding from his meditative pose in a quick, fluid motion. He doesn't go to join the dolly at the door, though. She's the hug expert. She has this under control. Instead, he moves to the kitchen, where he starts pouring out mugs of cocoa and preparing a plate of gingerbread cookies. Amity stands where she is for a moment, not sure how to process the hug she's being given, then slowly wraps her arms around Nathania and gives her a gentle squeeze. It's not long, but it's something. She lets herself be squeezed into the vardo and tries to find a place to sit down, her face looking drawn and tired. "Mavis said I should come by," she says after a moment and sinks down into a seat. "We. Talked last night." Talked. Yeah, that was a word for that whole mess, wasn't it? She rubs at her eyes, then smiles a little. "Smells good in here." Smiling gently, Nat guides Amity to the seat opposite hers, and nods at Briar. Good thinking, it says, even without words. She then looks to Amity gently. "Okay. I'm glad.. you took... that advice. What's... on your... mind?" she asks, before digging for needles and yarn, setting the unstarted project near Amity before picking up her own knitting. Some kind of scarf or cowl, with cables. "Tastes even better than it smells," Briar says over his shoulder. His voice is warm and comforting as he says it. He also looks a little disheveled at the moment, though in his case it's obviously not from emotional stress as it is with Amity. His fur is just thicker, coarser, and more wild than usual in the winter months, and this is even more obvious than it would otherwise be given his mode of dress. He's just wearing a T-shirt and yoga pants at the moment, so the usual bagginess of clothing that keeps his muscles out of view isn't there. He's a long, tall, muscular thing, with fur sticking out at odd angles, overlarge feet, and one eye. He might even look threatening, from some viewpoints - until he turns around and Amity can see his expression properly, anyway. He's got a plate of gingerbread cookies in one hand, a mug of cocoa with marshmallows in the other, and he's got the goofiest, least threatening smile anyone could ever possibly wear spread across his dorky features as he lopes across the room and offers Amity the mug. The plate of cookies gets set carefully down on the end table, within easy reach. "Nat knows where to find the best recipes," he adds. "Help yourself. We've got more than enough." And then he nods towards Nathania, falling silent again as he waits for an answer to the obvious question. "Oh, Briar, I assume? It's nice to finally meet you." Amity peers up at Briar, as if noticing him for the first time. Tries to give her always-polite smile and only half manages to do so. She makes a motion as if she might offer a hand to shake but instead finds herself occupied with a mug of cocoa. She hesitates and then both hands wrap around it. Cling to it. Amity takes a sip of the chocolate and her eyes focus on the table in front of her. She's not /really/ avoiding answering the question from Nathania--yes she is. "...Had a fight with Mavis," she finally says after thinking for a long moment. The words are dragged from her mouth slowly, as if she doesn't want to admit that something has happened. It's too much to be vulnerable in front of others. Nathania nods slowly, button eyes sympathetic. "Fights happen," she says softly, gently. "For all... sorts of reasons, my friend." She knits, leaving the cookies for Amity (and Briar, but being a health nut he'll only have one or two). "It's... a tough thing. Your first?" "That's my name," Briar says. The warm smile briefly becomes a broad, beaming grin that is in no way any less goofy. It's the buck teeth. It's simply not possible for him to look anything /but/ ridiculous, with those. He doesn't seem to care, though. He just flips a two-fingered salute, then moves to retrieve another mug of cocoa. This one goes to Nathania, or at least onto the table next to her. Then he moves to lower himself into his cross-legged sitting position again, his hands folding once more into that intricate triangular pattern. He doesn't close his eye, though, and it doesn't seem like it's him actively /doing/ anything. This is just... how he sits, it seems. On the floor in front of the couch where the two women are, staring up at them and listening quietly. He's reassuringly solid, despite the inherent silliness. He waits calmly while Mavis works out how to phrase what she needs to say, without so much as a flicker of impatience. When she finally does say it, he nods. "It was about us, I'm guessing," he responds. "At least in part. We dropped by yesterday to hand off some cookies, and she said that she was going to talk to you about maybe coming to see us. I'm sorry if it was rough for you." And he sounds as though he genuinely means that, too. Amity's grip on her mug gets a little tighter. She's not quite sure what she wants to say now and it feels close in here, the small dwelling pressing in around her. She came here to try and deal with this, though. She can't just give up. She takes a breath. In. Out. In. Out. She closes her eyes for a long, long moment, then opens them to look between Nathania and Briar. "The first bad one," she admits in a quiet voice, her eyes dropping away to stare into her cocoa. That's easier then trying to look at either of them. It's probably the first time Nathania has seen her this exposed, this raw. Normally Amity tries hard to hide what she's feeling or thinking. "And yes. About you. I... I didn't want to go. I wanted to try and work things out ourselves. Not involve other people. But Mavis was so insistent and she was saying she'd just go on her own and I was--" She pauses, looks hurt. "I was angry. It felt like she only ever listened to other people about these things and never to /me/." Nodding gently, Nat says softly, "It's never easy." Repeating herself. "I'm sorry... for the injury... we've caused." As she takes the cocoa, sipping it, knitting in the other hand. She sets it down, licking away a small chocolate mustache. Then she frowns softly. "Is she... maybe trying... to protect you?" "Yeah." Briar nods when Nathania speaks, and adds on, "I'm sorry, too. We always prefer to go straight to the people we think might need help, rather than forcing others to relay the message. We didn't this time, and it put the job on Mavis instead, which obviously, uh, didn't work out too well. That's on us. This stuff isn't easy, even when you're not playing a game of telephone, and it's never a good idea to put the responsibility on somebody else. You have our apologies." He flicks an ear and lifts one hand momentarily to scratch at its base. "But that doesn't make your feelings about it any less valid or important," he continues. His voice is gentle and genuinely caring. It's kind of amazing, having both Nathania and Briar so close. Nathania has a palpable air of comfort around her, a permanent offer for hugs and sympathy. Briar is similarly comforting, but in a slightly different way; he's reassuringly solid and warm, sheltering and caring. "You /can/ ultimately work things out between you," he adds, lowering his hand from his ear again. Another smile. "And you will. Nattie and I aren't here to, like, take over your relationship. That's not what we do. We're here to help you to sort through your feelings and find out how, exactly, you want to do it yourself. And you've already given us a good place to start, if you want to - feeling like your partner listens to other people more than they listen to you is definitely something worth talking about. But for now, there's no rush. You can just drink some cocoa and eat gingerbread for a while, until you feel like you want to talk. Or we can just start, if you like." He shrugs. "Whatever feels most appropriate to you." Amity shrugs. A gesture of helplessness in the face of the threads of Fate. She's not sure what to say for the moment and so takes a lingering sip of her cocoa instead, listening to the two of them talk. They feel /good/. Reassuring and warm. Homely. It's nice, even if it doesn't soothe away the hurt and the pain that's still clinging limpet-like to Amity. She nods at the pair, digesting their words. "It's not your fault," she says, voice quiet and withdrawn. "It's... I tried to get her to agree to join the Freehold? But she said she didn't want to get involved in our politics and so on. So I backed off and respected her choice even though--" Amity's voice cracks a little and she struggles to keep herself on an even keel for a brief moment. "Even though all I wanted to do is keep her safe. And I was scared for her. And then she talks to November and she's all for joining the Freehold. Because I guess I don't--I'm not magical enough to convince her or something." She grimaces, curls a little further inward on herself. "Mavis said she wanted to stay of our society and I respected that and then she's the one talking about how we should go see the Blackbirds all of a sudden." The hurt bubbles into her voice, slowly, like a bubble in a tar pit. "And then Thea pledges to her for... you know, says she'll protect her or be cursed and barges into our /house/ last night in the middle of our argument and she has a picture Mavis sent her on her /phone/. The..." Amity's words fumble again. "...intimate kind. After she pledged to Mavis and Mavis was /angry/ at her for breaking her boundaries and she still--" She cuts herself off. The Chatelaine's grip on her cocoa mug is white-knuckled. "Why--I--I respected all the boundaries she gave me and gave her the space she wanted and she keeps going and listening and putting herself closer to people who /didn't/ and what am I supposed to think?" Nathania sets her knitting aside, and looks to Amity seriously. She tries to lightly pluck the cocoa out of Amity's hands. And if allowed, she'll envelop the Wizened in a hug. It's comforting, it's like... well, a living rag doll hugging you for all she's worth. The dolly is silent, hug or no, even as she thinks over her next words. "I may say things here... that are kind of cutting, Amity." Her tone is gentle. "But hon, I think... Mavis wants... you to be wrong. And she's... afraid of you being right, that Lost are.... not as damaged or... as traumatized as we are." If allowed, she'll brush a lock of Amity's hair back behind an ear. "I think... in a twisted way, she's trying... to protect *you* while you're... trying to protect *her*." And she looks to Briar then, for confirmation or denial of her musings. Briar listens just as intently as Nathania does. It's obvious, too; his ears normally swivel freely, following any given sound as and when it appears, but while Amity speaks, his attention remains firmly fixed upon her. His smile never /quite/ disappears, but it grows rather more serious as she goes on, and his expression grows increasingly sympathetic as more and more details are pulled from Amity's chest. He doesn't know her well, but even to him, it's obvious that this is a woman who doesn't speak openly like this, who has been pushed too far and has become a complete raw nerve, who desperately /needs/ to say the things that she's saying. He lets her, listening patiently and remaining silent for a few seconds after it ends in case she finds more that needs to come out. When it becomes obvious that it's over, though, he waits for Nathania to speak first before nodding his agreement. "I've only met Mavis the once," he says, "but even from that, it was, uh, pretty easy to pick up on something. She got hold of the wrong end of the stick, and she's holding on tight to it. She doesn't think /she/ needs protecting. She thinks /you/ need it. She cares about you a lot, and wants to keep you safe. And /because/ she wants to keep you safe, she tends to think of you as the person... the person who she gets advice from others about. She doesn't think you need to protect her, so your advice on how to stay safe is kind of secondary. But the people around her, like Miss November, and whoever this Thea was that pledged to her - she thinks of them as people who can help to protect you, so she's willing to accept advice from them about that." His voice is serious as he says it. Not judgmental, but not condoning, either. Just a quiet, simple explanation. "That's how I see it, anyway," he adds, nodding his agreement to Nat. "And, from what I can see, this obviously bothers you a lot. Because you aren't helpless, and Mavis does need protecting, and you aren't a child whose advice should be ignored because she can't be trusted as much as everybody else - and that's how she's making you feel. Is that right?" Amity sniffles quietly as she tries to hold in a fresh round of tears. Then she fails to do that as they well over and begin to spill down her cheeks. She lets Nathania takes the cocoa from her, lets herself be hugged tight and even returns the gesture, clinging as she begins to cry all over again. She hates this, hates letting herself be seen like this. It is vulnerable and dangerous and she's supposed to not take up space but here she is, demanding space like she somehow /deserves/ it. Her aching, red eyes turn to Briar as he speaks and there's a wearied nod from the silently crying Wizened. "I feel like--like I'm secondary. I love her. I just--I want her to treat me like my opinion /matters/. She--she thinks the world of November and wouldn't listen to me when I told her she was... dangerous." And God, is November dangerous, even if she doesn't intend to be. "I tell her she should join the Freehold, but--but my advice isn't /good enough/." Her voice cracks, anger and weary sadness splitting it in the unusual display of open emotion. She feels raw. Hates it. "She doesn't /trust me/. I feel like she doesn't respect me or my experience or anything because she thinks I'm /broken/ and fragile. I cry sometimes, when we're intimate. Because--" She cuts herself. She doesn't... need to say why. She thinks they understand. "And that--it's just something that happens. But she thinks it means I'm... I don't know." She feels exhausted just from speaking and it shows. "She doesn't understand our world at all but she thinks she does." Nodding again, Nat holds Amity, rocking her, giving her space. Allowing her to take up the space she *deserves and needs* while she cries. She does not shush her or make her feel less, just allows her. Allows her to feel, be, and realize that she's loved, even if it doesn't feel like Mavis loves her right now--Nathania does. (Nathania loves just about anyone, but it's like a dog loves everyone. It's unconditional.) "I'm afraid I agree," Nat says to Amity's last point. "I think... Mavis... is in for an ugly, rude awakening." Her voice is tired, weary. "And I'm sorry that... you'll have the position... of saying 'I told... you so' if you... want to, my love." She kisses Amity's damp cheek, soft, affectionate--chaste, of course. She pets the silver-and-gold hair with a delicate hand. "November admits... herself that she's... dangerous. I don't know. I don't... understand Mavis." She shrugs, arms still around Amity until the Wizened makes motion that she doesn't want to be hugged or cuddled anymore. "I don't... understand," she repeats, a little weariness sinking into her own voice. "But I never... do understand... the mortals who... get wrapped... up in... our world." Briar nods along with Amity's agreement, and again with Nathania's words. His expression is still warm and comforting. He doesn't join in the hug, but he doesn't really need to; as close as he is, filling the air with reassuring solidity, he's doing what he needs to. Like this, with both him and the rag doll nearby, the room is full of comfort, of acceptance, of the silent surety that, whatever Amity's trauma might be screaming into her ear, she deserves and will receive as much space, as much attention and care, as she wants and needs. It doesn't need to be /said/. It simply /is/. "She thinks of you as needing protection," he says again. "Because - I'm guessing here but I think it's a pretty reasonable guess - when you first dropped the Gentry bomb on her, and told her about what they did to you, she, uh- she basically went into mom mode, and doesn't know how to come out of it." He grins crookedly for a moment. "She glared at me pretty good when we dropped by the other day. Pretty sure it's 'cause she wasn't sure yet whether or not I was someone that would be good for you." He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. "There are two things that really need to happen here," he says eventually. "One, Mavis really needs to find someone who can explain how bad the situation really is. She's overestimating herself and charging in on things she doesn't understand, and she's going to get herself hurt. I don't know who's in a position to really explain that in a way that will get through to her. You might be, eventually. But that's the second thing." He shifts his weight slightly, blinking once or twice, then finishes, "Mavis thinks of you as somebody who needs to be protected and can't be trusted to know what's best. She really does care about you, but that doesn't mean that it's okay to treat you like that. You're not a child, and your thoughts and feelings and experiences and advice are just as good as anybody else's. Better, even, since you actually know Mavis and aren't, uh, super-Wyrd and kind of untrustworthy. So the second thing - and the more important one for you, I think - that needs to happen is that you need to find a way to make Mavis understand that you are her /partner/, not her child. You're not some fragile thing that doesn't know enough to give good advice. The question is how you think it would be best to get her to realize that." Amity slumps against Nathania. She doesn't seem in a hurry to tug herself away anytime soon and instead she's just. Leaning into the other woman, seeking the comfort she can from the contact and reassurance and support rolling off the other two. She looks downwards for a moment, considering their words. A pang of guilt when Nathania says she doesn't understand. 'It's your fault for bringing her into this,' a little voice in the back of her head says. 'You should have stayed quiet and unnoticed.' She tries to shove it away but it stays there, whispering into her ear while she tries to find solace in the others. "I don't know how," she says quietly, responding to Briar. "I think maybe sitting down with you two might help. if I have you two to help... explain? Maybe?" She shakes her head. "I just--I'm scared for her. She wants to be independent and I want her to be, but--but I don't know how to help her and give her the space she wants. Especially when--when she just..." When Mavis takes that space and shoves herself even closer to others. "What if she decides she wants someone prettier? More confident? More magical? More wondrous? Someone who makes the world look brighter?" What if she wants November? What if she wants Thea? What if... what if...? The insecurity and anxiety spill out of her, gushing like from a psychic wound. "I--" She hesitates. "When we were fighting yesterday she said I should. Stay out of the way. Because it's what I do best." She trembles, hands clenching. "And it's true. It's what--I mean--" Flashes of memory, flashes of a warm voice that was kind and cruel all at once that only let her be noticed when it wanted her to be. That kept her tucked away to run things except when it wanted a bauble to play with. "I don't think she knows how cruel that was," Amity adds, almost in a whisper. "That was very... mean of Mavis," Nat agrees, voice full of sadness for Amity. She kisses the other woman's temple softly, and her eyes--that only Briar can see--blaze with pain and sadness and anger, shared with Amity--even if the Wizened doesn't know it. "We... should probably... talk as... a group. She's treating you... like... you're a child, yes, and you've... been through something... I hope she never experiences." A sigh follows those words. So many people have experienced it in a similar situation, but she can't think of that now. "I don't know... how else to talk... to her without... overriding... your agency, and that's... unfair at best." "It's okay if you don't know how yet," Briar says gently. "Like I said, we're here to help you work through stuff like this and /figure out/ how. That's what we do. We'll help you find the best way to do this. Whether it's meeting with us for a while to help you sort out your feelings, or-" he nods to both of the women "-if you just want us to come with you to talk to her and act as a sort of, uh, translator for the feelings you don't know how to express yet. Either way. It's whatever you think would be best for you and your relationship." He's quiet for a moment. For a long while, really, while Amity just leans against Nathania and Nathania just hugs her best hug. Then, eventually, he says, "We all start out there, Amity. Just so you know. I'm lookin' at you and Nattie right now, and I'm seein' me and Nana. And I know Nattie can look at you and see a lot of her in you as well. But you're /not/ somebody whose advice and feelings should be ignored, not somebody who deserves to be treated like a child and told that your opinions don't matter. I know that hurts. I can tell. I don't know what it was like for you, obviously, but I think I can guess. And I honestly think it's incredibly impressive that you've managed to be as honest with Mavis as you have. Opening up to somebody like that had to be... real hard. And having that person tell you, whether it's with words or actions, that your opinion doesn't matter and that you should just stay out of the way while the important people make decisions for you..." Another pause, and he shakes his head. "I'm sorry that you're going through that," he says. "I really am. And, for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure that Mavis will also be sorry, when she finally understands. But for now, uh, just know that me and Nattie are always here, and you can always talk to us. About anything. 'Cause what you have to say /does/ matter. What you feel /does/ matter. /You/ matter. Okay?" "I think talking as a group is a good start," Amity murmurs. "I want to do that. Sometime." She fidgets a little, then stills herself automatically. Instinct. Good. Don't be noticed. She swallows. "I think someone who isn't me needs to sit with us. And tell her. Because she's not listening to me." She waves a hand, not sure if that's a good thing or whether it makes her feel awful just thinking about someone else having to explain things to Mavis for her. Briar's words get a weak little smile. "I... You're very kind, but..." She trails off. No. No she doesn't, is the unspoken rest of her sentence. "If I'd just stayed quiet Mavis would just be. Living a normal life so really this is all my fault." "It isn't." Nat murmurs, quietly, gently, but with force in the quiet places. "You love her. And she's... exceptional... in other ways--she's an... artist, and They... love creatives." Nat sounds a little bitter there, more than a little. "I think this... is a way of Fate... and the Wyrd... allowing us... a way to protect her. Or at least prepare her." She sighs, hugging Amity tight. "You are my friend. Therefore, you... matter." "I doubt it," Briar says, in response to Amity's last statement. "She's an artist in Fort Brunsett, Amity. Even discounting the chance of one of the Gentry getting interested in her, she's surrounded by us. I mean, she could have stumbled into, uh, a Moon ritual, or one of November's businesses, or even just. Y'know. Met Widget." He grins a bit, then looks somber again. "And Nattie's right," he continues. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now. Believe me, I /know/. I was /bad/ when I got out. Barely functional. Thought I wasn't even a person, constantly second-guessing myself 'cause I didn't trust a stupid animal to make any kind of real decision. That's where you are now. And that's /okay/. Those are valid feelings. It's totally understandable why you think of yourself the way you do. But it's not true." He stands, moving to retrieve Amity's half-empty, lukewarm cocoa, then lopes off towards the kitchen to refill it. "You're just as important as anybody else," he says, as he turns back. "Your feelings are just as valid. What you want is just as central to this as what Mavis wants. Moreso, even, 'cause you understand a lot of things about this that she doesn't." He sets the mug down, now piping hot (and with extra marshmallows), and drops back into his sitting position. "I know you don't really believe it right now," he adds, with a crooked little smile. "I know you don't believe me. 'Cause I didn't, either, when it started. But it's true. If Nattie and I can help your relationship with Mavis, that's great. But I want you to know that /whether or not that works out/, we'll still be here for you. For Amity. 'Cause she's worth it all on her own." "I know," Amity says miserably. "And you're probably getting such a negative impression of her. You should see her art. The way she smiles. How loving she is when we're together. How... bright and beautiful and... yes. She's amazing. I love her, you know?" She tries to smile as Briar returns with more cocoa. Her concern is still more for Mavis than herself and the supportive words don't make sense to her. She's just... a Lost. It's not really something she cares about. Herself, that is. "Thank you," she says. Sips her cocoa. "I just wish she would listen." She feels calmer now with sugar and warm drinks and warm company. She managed to get her worries out into the open and doesn't feel so much like she's floundering. It helps. Even if she feels awkward and sure still. "You're both far too kind," she says because it needs to be said. Nathania shakes her head firmly. "We choose... to do this... because someone helped us at some... point. We're paying... it forward." She hugs Amity more, holding her in her tired moment. "We'll... help her to see. You will, too. It'll... be okay." "Well, not entirely negative," Briar says, with a crooked smile. "Like I said, it's really obvious that she /does/ care about you. Like, a lot. I don't think she's bad. I just think she's wrong here, because she doesn't understand. That's not good, especially because of the way she's been treating you as a result, but it also doesn't make her a bad person. Good people can do things that aren't great sometimes. I think that's where Mavis is, at the moment." His smile remains, this time, and he gives Nathania a look that is so disgustingly affectionate and sappy that it would have been edited out of a Hallmark romance movie. "She's right," he says. "Everything's gonna be all right, in the end. However it plays out." Amity nods quietly. "Thank you both. I... Thank you." She takes a breath and smiles. "I'm glad Mavis made me come see you." Nathania returns Briar's look, equally sappy and affectionate, before hugging Amity once more. "We're always.. here. 3am, whatever. We're here, because... we care, and because YOU--yes, YOU, no matter... what They say--are important." She kisses Amity's cheek again.