[ She watches him uncertainly, ready to keep him from face-planting as he sways on his feet. The rocking ferry doing little to help, she imagines, as the guy who looks like he's had the crap beaten out of him, slides down onto the ground.

Given what she knows about being here? It's kind of hard not to wonder if that's what had actually happened. It's enough to see Allie lower her guard just a little, joining him a few feet away. Her back to the edge of the ferry, her knees tucked to her chest as she tries to ignore the faint, yet still present scent of vomit. ]

I'd say that's putting it mildly but - [ A quick glance in his direction. ] I think you're having a worse day than me.

[ And then he'd hear it; The laughter. The near-hysterical bubble of it that she tries to suppress because she knows, nothing about this is funny and yet she can't seem to keep it from spilling over. ]

Sorry - [ Her shoulders shaking. ] It's not funny. [ Another poorly contained trill of it. ] It's not.

[ But if she doesn't laugh she might cry and if she starts to cry? She's not sure she'll ever stop. ]