[The contact makes her skin spike in heat. It jerks Hanna back into a semblance of consciousness, jerks them both back to the reality of their situation.
Is she still dreaming? Remembering? Is any of this a hallucination, or is it real?
She searches him, the man with the two-toned hair that she knows she's seen before, but she's too damn addled to put it together.]
How?
[Her voice is thin and small, so unlike her usual demeanor. None of this could be remotely real. All of this is just some sad form of desperation.
She tells herself this, because this is what's become of her.]
no subject
Is she still dreaming? Remembering? Is any of this a hallucination, or is it real?
She searches him, the man with the two-toned hair that she knows she's seen before, but she's too damn addled to put it together.]
How?
[Her voice is thin and small, so unlike her usual demeanor. None of this could be remotely real. All of this is just some sad form of desperation.
She tells herself this, because this is what's become of her.]