POV: BRIGAIL
Pam's voice was flat again by the time she started talking. Brigail had figured out in the last ten minutes that flat was Pam's armor, the thing she wore when the actual feeling underneath was too large to show in polite company.
She came from money. San Francisco. Old family, older rules. She'd watched her sister get promised off at sixteen and decided she would rather disappear than wait for her own turn. She cleaned out her accounts and ran. Japan first, then California, then the drugs that came after the man in Tokyo who had too many requirements and not enough decency. The slow spiral that followed had a predictable ending. She ran out of money, couldn't hold a job, and met Madame Calisto in an upscale bar one night. One thing led to another, and the next thing she knew
