Abigail is so glad this girl is blonde, so glad she could cry. She doesn't cry. She won't let herself cry over something so stupid, when she barely cried over all those girls, the ones who weren't blonde at all.

But she still moves her hand out of this stranger's grip on instinct, flapping her wrist in the air like she's swatting a mosquito. She doesn't move besides that, though. "Yeah?"