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.
“If someone saw this, you could be scrapped,” Rigg said anxiously.
“I know,” was the soft reply. “I believe freedom is worth that risk.