When she releases her hold and turns her back to him, she'll only hear the sudden shuffling of his boots as if he's just barely managed from collapsing, then a slow, rattling inhale. Silence follows. Then, in a too-tightly controlled tone, he replies.

"Nay."

When she turns back to look at him, his hand raises to his breast to press solidly over his heart. Somnus' palm lingers there for far too many moments, as if the beating there beneath his tunic is foreign to him. His eyes are shut; he is clammy, grey. ...But recovering enough to speak up again.

"You have my gratitude, Ambassador."