[Will Graham]: I looked up at the night sky there. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. I wondered if our stars were the same.
[Hannibal]: I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You ent...
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Bridger wanted to be popular. Being the son of the one of the richest men on Figure Eight was pretty much a given in that department but even before Dawson Fitzgerald was known to his peers, his son's only desire was to be loved; to be involved with everything the Kooks did. He wanted to fit in with the social crowd. He didn't everything to keep his reputation at the Kook prince alive even if it meant forgetting the life he had on the cut.
But all the money in the world wasn't enough to make him happy. He didn't think he would ever be satisfied with his life and he hated it. He had everything. Money, a nice house, nice car, he lived on the more fortunate side of the island, and he had the most privilege of anyone he knew. There was a small amount of guilt in him for wishing he didn't have to live that way, that he could just be anonymous.
Was this the life he washed? Getting drunk and high with a bunch of wild teenagers? Before, Bridger would've said yes and that he absolutely loved his party lifestyle. But things were changing. He was changing and it was all because of that godforsaken Summer.
The Kook prince strutted in his blue Polo button down and khaki shirts through the cut. It was obvious that he didn't belong there. He could see the stares from people behind his Cartier sunglasses. He was easily recognized: Bridger Fitzgerald, son of Dawson Fitzgerald, owner of Fitzgerald Pharmacy. He arrived at his destination and walked inside the restaurant to see a hot headed Kiara Carerra behind the counter. "Oh, hell no. Get out!" She seethed when she saw him.
Bridger smirked. "No can do, Carrera. I'm a paying customer." He taunted.
"I'm not serving you," Kiara said darkly, her eyes full of hatred.
He grinned and leaned against the counter to piss her off even more. "That's good since I'm not ordering. I'm here to pick up."
She opened her mouth to retaliate when Mike Carerra came out from the back room. "Ah, Mr. Fitzgerald. Here for your order?" He asked the boy.
Bridger straightened up. "Yes sir, Mr. Carrera." He responded politely. When his back turned, he winked at Kiara, causing her glare to deepen.
Mike came back and handed him a plastic bag that contained two plastic containers. "There you go, son. Forks and napkins are in their as well."
"Thank you, Mr. Carrera. I appreciate it." Bridger said and pulled out a fifty from his pocket. He handed it to the man. "Have a great day."
He smiled proudly. "You as well. Say hi to your dad for me."
"Sure thing." The teenager nodded. He sent Kiara another taunting smile before leaving the restaurant.
As he walked out, he looked down the street and saw Pope and JJ headed toward The Wreck. Panicking, Bridger quickly slid his sunglasses on and walked the other direction to avoid them.
