--
Rigg pressed her back against a tree and closed her eyes, wishing she could have died in a less humiliating way. She supposed it could have been worse: the frog could have been a cute mechanical bunny.
--
Lisa's head was tilted back and she was staring at the wall with her mouth open.
"It's . . . beautiful," she whispered.
"It's graffiti," Rigg said flatly.
Lisa shook her head in awe. "And it's beautiful."
Rigg peered up at the wall. "Huh?"
--
Rigg laughed softly at Lisa's deadpan joke, but she halted when she noticed the back of Lisa's neck: the factory number had been shaved away, roughly and angrily. Frowning in confusion, Rigg gently rubbed her fingers over the scrape, and Lisa flinched as if it hurt.
"I-I filed it off while you were gone," Lisa admitted. "So that no one could have power over me ever again. Daisy helped me. Her number is filed away, too."
"If someone saw this, you could be scrapped," Rigg said anxiously
"I know," was the soft reply. "I believe freedom is worth that risk."
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