[He does. He thinks about it, he soaks in the memory of just them. Breathes in, breathes out, and slowly lets himself be pulled back together. It's not anything stable - he knows there's going to be issues, that the stitch work is shoddy, but for now, it works. It's a long fifteen minutes.

When his breathing is even, when he's gotten his head back, he sighs, slow, and rests his head on Party's shoulder. All that - all his panic, all his hurt, the intensity of it - it's made him exhausted.

He's quiet, for a long few moments. Then:] D'you - think this is hell?