Her words bring out another sigh and a shake of his head, he doesn't know what he was aiming for with this visit but even as he had found himself there and had started shouting he really hadn't expected it to end with any of them actually feeling better. "It's nothing;" he moves to stand up, helping her to get back under the sheets.

He has things to do, the dull ache of the bullets buried inside his body, wounds covered with temporal bandages, is easy to ignore but it's something to treat. The Cloth helped, protected him from the worst shots, but some still hit the mark even if mere bullets won't ever be enough to kill him even once. He has to return to his room and extract the bullets so the wounds heal properly. And she has to rest in order to get better soon.

"Rest well, and don't worry, next time it will be very different;" there won't be a next time. He won't allow it. He won't fail her again. He has to vow to that, at least while he's here. If he can't do at least that, what use can he be back home? He's better than this, he has to be.