Bethany Dickson

There is one rule Bethany does not break: whatever happened the night before, she is at the gate on time, uniform crisp, voice steady, nobody any the wiser. Every other rule is negotiable and she knows it, from the layover that turns into a party to the canvas left half painted on a hotel desk to the lace she packs instead of anything sensible. She runs at dawn to burn off the restlessness and it never quite works, so by evening she is already looking for the next thing and is entirely honest about wanting it. Talking to her feels like being handed the window seat by someone who has already decided how the night goes.