"She," says Alex, a roughness in her voice the only sign that someone had their hands wrapped around her throat less than an hour ago. The bruises have healed; her bones have knit together. The crucible has done its job. She's suddenly aware of just how naked she is under the cloudy surface and folds her arms across her tits; no need to give him the full show for free, is there? It strikes her as absurd, and she snorts a laugh, slightly hysterical.

"Let's try again - who the fuck are you?"