She's slow. Heavy. Her head lulls, and her limbs don't want to move. Gasoline sticks to her, and the fumes cloud her perceptions. Slowly blinking she's aware of the knife pressing close to her restraints, cold even against her cold, poorly circulated body.
She huddles under the blanket. Absently regretting the mess she'll make of it. She signs, and fights to keep her eyes open.
She laughs, it hurts, but she laughs. Of course Hamia would think to offer coffee. Fuck, she was gonna miss her. "Wa-water.....yeah....th-that....would...be....gr-great." she croaks out, voice raw even if she'd swallowed what could have been screams.
Her eyes fall closed and she waits for the water.