Yvette cringed a bit but was happy as the man who couldn’t have been much older than herself came closer and saw her situation. She bit her lip as he called out for more help, worrying and wondering if others would even help if they were alive. Were there others not injured? She nodded, eyes looking hopeful as he reassured her. Normally she would have smiled at his accent, but right now, she was just thinking about the piece of metal sticking into her. That, and not moving like he instructed.

Feeling a bit better that at least someone cared, she glanced away from the man when another came up with a southern accent. The dichotomy between the two’s speaking voices was enough to at least let her manage an attempt at a smile. [b]”I’m Yvette. Thank you… for helping me,”[/b] she said to them both in a nervous voice, no special accent to her voice besides American. She watched her rescuers as Mike cut the seatbelt off her, chewing her lip as he said they would lift her. She told herself mentally that she would try not to make a noise when they did so, but somehow she knew that was unlikely to happen. She was always the type to hate complaining, and hardly ever ask for help, so she didn’t want to whine.