Florence was fighting to clear her head. And by fighting, she meant battling desperately. Something wasn't adding up but it had to. Somehow. She was hallucinating. All the stress of the last year an all the time before that dealing with Freddie's drama and tantrums... Yeah. She'd finally snapped. She'd find a hospital, maybe. They'd help. They had to, right?
The voice was familiar but not jarringly so. But when she looked up? The face... It wasn't possible because seriously, what the hell were the odds? Though it certainly fed into her hallucination theory. "Oh, for Christ's sake," she muttered, shaking her head once to clear it. And when the face of Freddie Trumper remained in front of her, she sighed and shook her head again.
"I'm...I'm fine, I just... What the hell are you doing here?" Not we. Because Florence had officially convinced herself that she was suffering from some dream or delusion and of course she was going to be in her own insane nightmare. But why did he have to be there? Couldn't she even go mad without him interfering?