"Are you awake?" I asked, calmly as I looked down at Lucy sprawled motionless on the cold, damp ground.
She didn't respond, her breathing steady and even—too steady, too controlled. Either she was genuinely unconscious, or she was doing an impressive job of pretending.
"You're too soft, Ryan. Let me deal with this," Christopher said with a hint of exasperation, pulling off the drenched waist pack he'd been carrying slung over his shoulder until now. Without ceremony, he wrung it out directly above Lucy's face, water droplets cascading down in a steady stream.
The cold water splattered across her features in quick succession, running down her cheeks and into her hairline.
My expression twisted slightly at the crude awakening method, a mixture of disapproval and though amusement pulling at the corners of my mouth. Part of me wanted to tell him to stop, that there were better ways to do this. But another part, thought that she didn't deserve a better way.
