He is too lost to pressure and relief, both indescribably intertwined, to speak as normally he would. Be dignified, be courteous, be respectful, be aware— consider purpose and person: a tireless list of procedures to be kept to at all times, and in that moment all those failsafes fail him, prompting an unsteady, gritted sound as he eases into place. As he finds the meager start of a canting rhythm.

His face falls across her forearm, eyes shut. Inhale slow, words unsteady.

“—you would waste an age to do so.”