[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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When Bridger walked inside his house, he saw his dad passed out on the couch. He could smell the alcohol from the front door. He pulled a face of disgusting and shut the door, not caring if it was loud. It was, apparently, because Dawson Fitzgerald jumped awake and sat up groggily. "Do you have to be so loud?"
"It's like 11:00, dad." Bridger said with an eye roll. "Don't you think it's too early to be drinking?"
"I haven't been drinking," Dawson denied and got up from the couch, stumbling into the kitchen.
"I can smell it off you," he said harshly and reached in the fridge for a bottle of water.
"Where've you been?" His dad asked, ignoring the statement.
"Gym." He replied simply.
"With who?"
"The guys."
"You shouldn't be hanging around them so much like you do," his dad said and scratched his face.
Bridger pulled a face. "What? Dad, they're my friends."
"Yeah, I've heard that one before."
His stomach went hollow and his eyes turned dark. "You don't know what you're talking about." He spat and walked around the island to go upstairs.
"Hey!" Dawson snapped and pushed Bridger into the wall.
Bridger held his breath as he had pinned him against the wall. He could feel his arms bruising from the strength. He cringed at how awful his dad's breath was.
"Don't you talk to me like that, boy," his dad sneered in his face. "I know so much. I could tell everybody on this God damn island. You don't want to test me,"
"You wouldn't," Bridger found himself snapping. "It would ruin the perfect, golden boy image you want me to have,"
Dawson gripped onto his arms tighter. "I suggest you keep that mouth shut then. Now go shower. You stink."
He shoved Bridger again and stumbled away.
He quickly ran past him and upstairs to his room. Bridger slammed the bedroom door shut and pressed his back against it, breathing in and out heavily. He felt his throat start to tighten up and he tugged harshly on his hair. "Calm down. Call down." He muttered to himself. Then he started pacing around his room in a panic. "Oh god, not now. Not now."
Nobody knew what Bridger had to deal with. Dawson Fitzgerald was an evil man. On the outside, he liked to appear like the perfect father and businessman. He attended every party on Figure Eight and chatted up everyone to insure they thought well of him. Even after the death of his wife, he still kept up the image. Nobody knew what he was really like. Bridger did and it was a horrible sight.
