Ellie figures anybody whose got a name with the first two syllables being Lucy doesn't have much grounds to be annoyed by it. And she hasn't had the energy to be an asshole unprovoked just yet.

"Sounds nice," she says with a shrug. It does sound nice, is the thing. People believing in you sounds amazing. It's also out of her grasp, so she doesn't focus on it too much. The boar she's drawing gains long, sharp tusks, and arrows sticking out of its side. Blood is sketched flanking its sides, polling at its hooves. It's dead, but it's still standing.

"I've read books about therapy," she murmurs. "You just sit and talk, right?"