"Brigitte Snaps"
Author's Note: This one takes place immediately after "25's and the Royal Blues." For the full sequence, you should read "After Ginger Snaps" and "25's and the Royal Blues."
Prologue
(After.)
Sam walks into the living room, still shrugging off that sweet hangover of pleasure at every step, and finds his ever-ready pack of Victories on the birch coffee table... sitting practically at the feet of Brigitte Fitzgerald.
He looks at her, and she visibly stiffens up with his presence. She almost shirks, almost moves away, and he can't help but think she'd feel better if she actually did to that. He sits down right next to her, and she shoots him a look through strands of frizzy hair, like she can't believe he's just sitting there, stark naked, and reaching for his cigarettes.
What's so strange, he wonders, but then he remembers. Oh. She doesn't... she's never been there before, where they are now, wherever it is, is unexplored territory for her. There are no maps for these territories, he knows.
Sam lights up and inhales the smoke. Halfway through this cigarette, he guesses, things will make sense. Brigitte's silent presence becomes more pronounced at each drag. He passes the cig. She takes it, takes a few drags, passes it back.
"So." He says, trying to prompt a response.
"So." She counters. She opens her mouth, and he can see her tongue twisting, fumbling for words. "What now?" she asks.
What now, really? He's never considered that question before, so, in a way, this is unexplored territory for him. He looks at her, hoping to find the answer, but all he can see is that same Venus in furs – her pale, thin fingers gripping the blankets tighter, her body curling up even more to hide her nudity. Afraid, ashamed.
"What now?" he says, "Now... we cope."