"Oh, nonsense." Peggy shifted her focus to Sandy, watching the girl play with the car for a moment. Though she seemed too young to be here on her own, she knew full well what young women at that age were capable of. She knew what she had been capable of, as well as what the girls at that Soviet facility were capable of. She'd even learned of Whitney Frost's past, and she knew that there was more power in Sandy than perhaps even she knew. But she also knew how well people could beat that power and that light out of you. The possibility that Sandy had been told early on - and possibly with an awful sort of regularity - that something she loved was stupid was enough to raise Peggy's hackles. "There's nothing stupid about art. I admit there's something stupid about men having private art collections that they don't share with the public, but art itself is a wonderful thing, both for the artist and the audience, for any number of reasons. If you're lucky enough to find art supplies down here, I suggest you hold on to them. They may prove a good outlet for anything you're going through."

She gave Sandy a firm nod, adding, "And the running may well keep you alive down here, which is no mean thing. I once overheard someone say that when you're faced with an opponent, and there's nothing you can do but run, then run until you're at a place where you've either lost your opponent, or you can make the fight yours." Granted, Peggy had never really heeded that advice, being the sort of person who went straight for the eye of a hurricane.