[ A brow lifts at her inclusion of an honorific, finding it unsurprising for her delicate demeanor, but strange to hear all the same. Her once-cool skin has equaled out against his own, warmer now for the prolonged contact. Noticing that makes him shift, a waking tension returning to his body. ]

Okay, Mercie. [ A beat. ] The "Mister" isn't really necessary, if you're amenable.

[ Finally, he does make to ease up on his elbow. ]

I feel great, actually. [ You know, comparatively. ] You've got a magic touch.