for now, in this liminal space between crisis and normalcy, Sarah allowed herself to simply be present in the moment. To feel Victor's warmth against her side, to listen to his uneven breathing, to ponder the unexpected turn their simple boat ride had taken.
As the taxi neared Westminster Pier, Sarah gently squeezed Victor's shoulder. "We're almost there," she murmured, not sure if he could hear or understand her.
Victor stirred slightly at her words, lifting his head from her shoulder. For a moment, his eyes met hers, and Sarah's breath caught in her throat. There was a flicker of something in those hazel depths - not recognition, exactly, but a hint of awareness that had been missing before.
But before Sarah could say anything more, Victor's gaze slid away again, focusing on some point beyond her shoulder. He shivered once, violently, then pressed closer to her side.
"Cold," he mumbled. "So cold. Why won't it stop?"
