Bridge takes off a glove and concentrates, running his fingers lightly over the words printed on the page.

A girl, a few years younger than Door, and looking so much like her that it can't be anyone else *but* her sister. Alone, afraid, but she's not hurt.

Bridge slips his glove back on and looks back up at Door. "It's really her," he says. "It's also a trap, like the Marquis said." He's not telling her not to go. *He* would go, if it were someone he loved, trap or no trap.