For some time after she crouched down, he remained immobile, but finally curiosity seemed to win out. He didn't sit up, but his brows furrowed and splayed fingers curled themselves into loose fists. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and quiet - done in by yelling, no doubt - but it was also cold, as if he expected her to put on an executioner's mask at any moment.

"Who're you?"