Brisa fetched snacks and drinks from the cafeteria counter, and Starr went ahead to prepare the dorm lounge. When Brisa arrived, the torracat had already thrown out any residents, found some Cibus production to watch on the wall-mounted screen Brisa had long-ignored, and slung herself over the couch. Brisa joined her, biting her tongue rather than ask any of the insistent questions in her head about how movies worked. It clearly wasn't a recorded stage play, the camera work proved the sets were huge, or illusory, or just straight up real places. And there was no audience present.
Just being on the couch together made her feel better. Watching the movie—which was not at all like a theatre performance!—was weirdly fascinating (They acted like real people, doing real things! No shouting or wild gestures!) but the whole time she was torn between the idea that extra training might make a difference and save a life in the coming fight (although Starr would kill her before she could leave to do so) and the idea that if she was here, she may as well get close to Starr.
She probably could. Starr touched her pretty often, though not usually to hug her.
Starr wouldn't push her away, right?
...
She rested her shoulder, then her head, against Starr's flank. That, at least, seemed acceptable to Starr. It was good enough for Brisa.
By the time they finished the movie, Brisa realised she had tears running down her face. She could hardly remember the plot, she was so engrossed in seeing pokémon behave like real people, real people actually feeling despair and love and fear and joy and heartbreak.
"I ain't ever seen anythin' like that before," she said, her voice badly choked up. "And y'say I can watch it again any time?"