"We're good at making the most of a piss-poor situation, that's for sure." Ripley scans the crowd for emphasis. Some folks pitch tents, others gather around the fire playing games. She realizes, amidst observation, how collective strength singlehandedly keeps her nerves from snapping.

Others might call it collective delusion. She isn't sure.

A pause while she contemplates something, catching bottom lip between teeth.

"Can I ask you a question, Zivia? About the person whose— about that play I was in?"