[The voice more than the touch rouses her, unfamiliar, as where exactly she is re-enters her conscious mind. She jolts a little when her hand is first intercepted, her brain scrabbling to catch up as her eyes fly open, and then she pulls away in the slightly cramped quarters, embarrassed and pulling her hair out of her mouth. (And then checks her own phone a little furtively, because the dream impression of a call that needs to be picked up lingers.)
She waits until it looks like he might be finished, hesitating over a second whether to disturb him further - but it's a long ride, and it'll be a longer one stuck in an embarrassed silence. Her voice is a little huskier from sleep.]
Sorry. ['Sir'? She feels like she should tack something on at the end.]