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It seemed before Victoria could get a hold of all of her faculties, that someone crawled over to her. 

The boy, probably more distressed than she was, showed it in a way that was far more assertive and pleading. Her grip on her legs seemed to loosen as his words, eschewed together like they were taped together with gum, seemed to distract her from her own awful anxiety. It was a thing that in a less distressing situation she may have smiled at the fact someone was caring about her, about noticing her. She wasn’t invisible. However, she was on a sub-tropical island in the middle of nowhere after being pushed into British waters. 

This was not a situation she could shake so easily.

[color=647C99]“Uh-”[/color] 

That is until he asked her if she saw what he saw–if he felt what he felt. And then it came to his neurotic pleading to know that everything was real and he wasn’t [i]dead[/i]. Assuming insanity was something Victoria hadn’t ruled out, but given their entire surroundings and the facts of the situation it seemed that they were not all having delusional fits. Logically, one could surmise that they had been taken from England to somewhere in the South Pacific. But that would also imply that anything that happened between point a and point b made any sense. Logic was out of the window. Though, perhaps she could apply logic to help the boy in front of her?

She held out her hand.

And she smacked [abbr=in the face]him[/abbr] as hard as she could.

[color=647C99]“There. You’re real. See?”[/color] Somehow the smile she doubted she could muster appeared on her face. 

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