Brigitte rubbed her eyes and drew her green shawl closer around her shoulders, over her long blue nightgown. He'd caught her while finishing out her last couple hours of sleep before breakfast and air prep, which slowed her understanding just temporarily. "Excuse me?"
The tall man repeated his statement. Her tired mind sought to connect his words with anything she'd ever heard before, anything at all--and then it finally hit her. Slasher. Some called him a false prophet. Some called him a mutilator. Some called him a flesh-eater. Some called him soulless. Some called him evil.
But to have the person who called him "lover" in these safe walls?
"I'll do something about it," she clocked back fast. She flashed a stressed but grateful smile, reaching out to touch his arm in warm acknowledgment before she shut the door, frantically pulling off her shawl and slipping out of the long nightgown. She dashed into her bedroom and pulled her clothes on, having no time to think or reflect as she headed up to Bonita's floor. She didn't need to think. She knew.
The next thing Brigitte knew, through her hastened haze and worry, Bonita was standing in her doorway, lips pursed as she listened to Brigitte hushedly tell her what Lyki had related to her. After a long moment of contemplation, she sighed. "Mr. Jervis is a lucid fellow. He wouldn't lie about something like this," she said aloud as she gestured for Brigitte to enter, "but, Brigitte, you have to know that we're safe in these walls."
"No, we're not," Brigitte said, images of the stories that other visitors over the years had told her of the horrid man's exploits.
"Brigitte, he's not going to come inside," Bonita insisted as she gestured for Brigitte to sit at the table. What had been breakfast was clearly cleaned away just moments ago. "May I offer you anything? You're up awfully early."
"No, Bonita," Brigitte barked back, partially fueled by what was, in fact, a little bit of morning hunger, "we're not okay in here. We're setting up a meal opportunity for him if he's in the area. He'll stalk around. He'll prey on visitors who need our help and want to come to us."
"Brigitte," Bonita said a little strainedly, "I suggest you calm yourself right now."
"No, Bonita, don't tell me to calm down!" Brigitte shouted, slamming her fist on the table and standing.
Bonita jumped to her feet and pointed toward her door. "If you're not willing to understand, then I'm not willing to argue with you," she jarred back icily, raising her voice to exceed the volume of Brigitte's voice without shouting. "You have work to do and I have better things to do than argue with a little girl who has no other place to go."
Brigitte's jaw dropped. She stared and blinked for a moment, then bristled as she started toward the door. "Fuck you, Bonita," she growled.
"What was that?!" Bonita spat back, clearly shocked.
Brigitte slammed the door behind her and made off for her room. She wanted nothing more than to track down the new visitor and find a way to get her far away. It wasn't personal. She didn't know Bandit. She knew nothing about her at all. In all eventuality, it was possible that Bandit was a pleasant human being worthy of knowing, but it wasn't Bandit that was the problem. It was the cannibal.