He's got a pretty voice. Deep and rumbly. Like a boiling volcano.
Why the hell is this what flits through her mind as she rouses from... rouses from...
She not sure what.
"Hey! Hey!" And then quieter. "Did someone catch her name?"
"Anna," she murmurs through fumbling lips. Squints at the fluorescent shimmers above.
"Oh thank God. She's not dead."
She isn't. She thinks.
The first glimpse of him she catches is his hair.
And the ground beneath her is hard. Tries to sit, but everything spins so intently she loses control of her muscles.
But strong hands catch her.