…there is no other shelter hereabout:
misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
I will here shroud till the
dregs of the storm be past.
— Shakespeare
They couldn’t be stranger bedfellows.
They couldn’t be more different — in Temperament and upbringing.
But there they were. Bound together in tragedy and purpose, at this point in time.
They needed each other, and they wanted each other’s help.