Your mother snorts loudly awake as you nudge her a second time, then sits bolt upright as she jerks far enough back into consciousness to recognise where the both of you are.
"Mum, we've got to get off," you prompt her, rather unnecessarily, as she's already gathering up her dress and swinging into motion.
"No shit," she mutters, clearly not quite awake enough to register she's speaking to her teenage son, stumbling into the aisle and making a swaying run for the door as the beeping tone sounds to signal it's closing. Seeing it start to close, you're not sure she's even going to make it in her bleary-eyed state.
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