"I mean," Bethany says, rolling her eyes in thought. "This all seems so over-the-top, right? Crushing those little spies last night was just protecting the family, but even that..."
You look past the pads of the enormous digits that hold either side of your cage to see Bethany examining the ball of her other hand, which less than a day ago had crushed several shrunken men beneath its mass. Tears threaten to roll from her eyes, but she sniffs them away and returns her regard to you.
"Was I wrong about my parents? They always been so nice, so kind, but in the run-up to my eighteenth my Mom has become so cruel, and the way she treats tinies like you, it's horrendous..."
"Does this..." you venture cautiously, expecting to be cut short at any moment, "...does this mean that you'll help me? It'll be dangerous to stand against your mother!"
Bethany sniffs again. "I know. But there are several ways we can stop her. If you'll help me, I know we can do this!"
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