I concur. [ His voice cracks, tired. He won't say no to a little rest, even if laying on the grass and dirt is a little uncouth for his tastes. He's beyond caring for the time being. It also affords time for him to replay the situation in his head, analyze it, and ask himself what he could have done better. He doesn't, fairly, have a high opinion on his physical capabilities on even a good day, but, he tends to make up for it in his utility. He can sprint and he can hide. He and squirm and deflect and buy time and distract. He just can't run a marathon.

He sits up and starts picking grass and leaves out of his clothes, smooths out his hair and begrudges himself. ] Cor... if only I had any of my equipment on me. We could have scaled the walls or blasted our way through them. [ A indignant sniff has he rises to his legs and pats any residual grass off them. ] Even a little bit of drift oil would have gone a long way.

[ His frustration is directly entirely at himself, though he's thankful this was a relatively tame incident. They could have just been slobbered on... or trampled on. Who knows. He has her to thank for and reaches his hand out. ]

I suppose they're better left in there where they belong.