She only nodded, tired enough she didn't want to speak anymore. The truth was that her fear ate at her, the despair and sadness, the nightmares that plagued her. She was not alright. Her heart was beating a rapid tattoo against her breast and he'd have no problem discerning tachycardia, and her skin was warm enough to be a mild fever.

With a deep sigh, she sort of drifted to a doze, but not a sleep. She would easily wake up to the touch of his hand or the sound of his voice.