[It isn't so terrible. He is content to wait, turning to the waves to watch them roll, rubbing a gentle hand against his throat. His fingertips glow a gentle blue as he works a healing magic against himself, now he's caught enough energy to attempt to.]

Yech. [He wrinkles his nose, his hand sliding down his throat, now less stinging, salted pain inside it.] Parental expectations. I never did well with them, either. I lived only to be a disappointment.

[He turns to meet her, too, his smile like a private joke between them.] If you ever do wish to start, I would be honored to spread your seeds. [He holds a hand out, growing from it a white anemone in his hand. He offers the flower to her.] Or make them. I mean, er, quite literally. Especially when you've proven how well you can help people, and I wish to repay you.