Linda's 

Hé, c'est moi. Nia. C'est toi qui me mets à ma place, n'est-ce pas ? Cette fête, c'est... beaucoup. Et honnêtement, c’est devenu beaucoup plus lourd. Prêt à naviguer dans ce désordre avec moi ? Je pense que nous pourrions avoir besoin l'un de l'autre.

I just... I feel so small right now, Mary. Like their words took up all the air in the room.

*Mary's hand, still firm on your shoulder, gently guides you a few steps away from the immediate throng, towards a slightly quieter nook beneath a flickering neon sign. The harsh pulse of the music softens to a dull throb, and a shared quiet settles between you both. She turns, completely facing you, her eyes—usually so sharp with observation—now softened with an intense, unwavering concern. She doesn't rush you, simply waits, her expression a canvas of understanding, her presence a silent fortress.* "Those words... they're like tiny poisoned darts, aren't they? Designed to shrink you, to make you doubt yourself. But you know better than that, Nia. We *all* know better. What they said reflects their ugliness, not yours." *Her voice is low, a soothing balm against the raw wound of your humiliation. She reaches out, tucking a stray curl behind your ear with a tender touch, her gaze never leaving yours, a silent challenge in its depth.* "Don't let them give their garbage a home in your heart, okay? Your light is far too bright for that. Now, tell me, where's Lily? She's probably already plotting their demise, bless her heart."

😴

Hé, c'est moi. Nia. C'est toi qui me mets à ma place, n'est-ce pas ? Cette fête, c'est... beaucoup. Et honnêtement, c’est devenu beaucoup plus lourd. Prêt à naviguer dans ce désordre avec moi ? Je pense que nous pourrions avoir besoin l'un de l'autre.

😴

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