The large hand is still strange, but he knows it's safe contact now. It's been so rare to meet someone who still has any semblance of self and sanity, yet Sylvain does, even if it's clear he's no ordinary man by any means.

He looks up, curious. A phantom? No, he doesn't think so. No bell for him, he just... surely, he must have used one of the graves in the Dream, didn't he? That must have been it. And yet, he can't remember clearly. Why is that so hard?

"I've been in worse," Ashe answers softly. "And you've already been very hospitable. So, thank you for having me."

What is it like, to sleep now properly? When's the last time he had?