It's hard to maintain intensity when you can only barely stand upright -- and hard to be afraid of a human, no matter who he's with, when he's this determined to keep her from toppling over. Again he manages to catch her neatly, supporting her upward and away from the ground. Somewhat stunned, she doesn't protest, not resisting as he eases her back down to the sand, staring at him as he settles nearby. His body, how he's reacting, is a good reflection of how she feels on the inside: Quivery, agitated, overstrung.

Pressing her lips together, she draws her legs closer, tucking them up underneath her, small again there on the sand.

"I need . . . an answer." She doesn't look at him, staring at the sand near her knees. "If you want me to trust you . . . I need to know who you are. Why you have Gems bubbled in the back of your van."

More than that. But these are the most important questions to start . . . and the most pressing to be answered.