[ What a measured answer. Lighter's shoulders slope a little, as if he's wise to the fact that she'd been holding all of that in but chose instead to share it with him after all. It makes him less keen on leaving, even though it's presumably morning — even though he can't, also presumably, stay here with her forever. ]

That makes sense. Luxury's pretty glaring when there's not much of it to go around. All of this must seem in pretty bad taste to you.

[ Hanging on that peripheral, he lifts his opposite hand. ]

Medic? [ He guesses. He runs his fingertips over his brow where his head had been pounding, now soothed to a near memory. ] If this was anything to go by.