[ Sylvain's confusion is missed as she's momentarily preoccupied by his silent request to come closer. Obligingly, she curls into his side without a word of protest. She doesn't particularly like the idea of getting her nightgown dirty, but she isn't about to deny his quiet request. And besides, the fate of her nightgown aside, Sylvain's reply, childish or not, stirs something warm in her chest. It, coupled with his own warmth combats the cool tile she can feel through the fabric of her nightgown.

She's barely had time to settle her head on his chest before she's propped back up again on her elbow to look at him. The wrinkle between her brow gives the impression that she's annoyed, and to some degree she is. The annoyance, however, is aimed at whatever it is that has caused his lack of confidence in himself. She can't let that go unchecked. ]

I don't know what you're talking about, Sylvain. You kept each other safe which means you kept him safe. How else would you two have escaped?

[ She could go on about what she sees in him but has a feeling they'll fall on deaf ears right now. Instead she turns her focus towards what he said before his self-deprecation. What little bite there had been in her voice is quickly worn away with worry. Her voice is saturated in it. ]

Memories from home, you mean?