Shelter is all she can think about. When she can think. The dizziness has hit a fevered pitch; she moves slowly, carefully, and looks like a house of cards on the verge of being blown down. There's a buzzing in the back of her head, making everything fuzzy and slightly out of focus. What is this? Is it the fog? Is it some remnant of whatever she might have been drugged with before being dumped on the beach? She can't think. She needs to get inside somewhere, get warm. Get out of this.

The place looks a wreck, something that would normally make her balk. Normal Caitlin wouldn't stick around, not unless she was looking for something this mess might provide. But freezing cold, wet, feeling ill Caitlin? This could be her port in the storm.

The unfamiliar voice brings her to a halt, though, even standing still, she's shivering hard enough for it to be visible and wobbling unsteadily. She's not supposed to be cold. This is wrong. She braces a hand against the wall beside one of the holes. Doc. Who goes by 'Doc'? Her head wavers as she looks at him. "Caitlin Snow. I-I'm sorry for intruding."