A soft huff of breath pushes from Karen's throat. This isn't something she imagined — Not the particular circumstances, water and nudity and everything that conjures up on its own, but seeing him again at all. She and Claire have had a silent pact about it; they just don't expect people from home, don't dwell on why they two have been alone here. It's easier that way.

"She's, um," Karen begins, and glances away, her face briefly pinching. "She's actually yours." Just like the slim little volume tucked away in one of her drawers at home, although no one had to tell her who the childen's book had belonged to, unlike the dog.

Karen reaches a hand out to brace against the trunk of a nearby tree, not bothering to hide the need to steady herself even if she feels ridiculous in needing to.

"Are you..." She falters again, looking back up to him. Is he really real? Is she going crazy? She doesn't know. "Are you OK?"

He looks OK. He looks more than OK, but with Frank she has to ask, even if she rarely gets an honest answer, and it isn't as if she can just walk right into the water and hug him like she wants. Even like this, chest tight and her heart hammering in her ears, she knows that would be a bad idea.