[ The quality of his patience is different from the one he usually employs so well. As if this moment will stretch, unrushed, at any provocation, banding in slippery colors, in skin hues and starlight over sand. Gossamer like the silk she wears as a similarly negligible shield against perception, though her situation is a bit more urgent. That pale threshold still feels blurry, a sensation not so easily blinked away by the simple act of waking up.

His simple dress shirt and slacks don't make much of an offering for her to cover up with before they hunt down the valet, but he does offer her the hook of his arm, half his side to obscure herself against. Having already seen the solar flash of her soul imprinted on his, surely the outline of a hip or breast won't be too much to handle...

nothing for the free feet tho ]

"Up" is a good start. [ Being on the ground floor and all. Something he doesn't have to mention for him to be sure she might know, in the dim and dark, encased by sterile concrete. ] As for how far, that'll depend on how you're feeling.

[ It might seem a cheeky statement, coming from an empath. But it's almost mentioned as if in supplication, as if asking for forgiveness now that he's helped himself is something he's remembering to do. It's a caution that nearly feels heavy upon him, learning a lesson too late because it was never taught to him. ]

Like a meal? Or a warm drink? Even if you just want to see some fruit trees or flowers, that's all up as well.

[ And the rest, the ranks and the brands, will blend into these little pleasures with time. The House will fold them in, sweetly, torrentially, to be discovered in full later. But for now, she doesn't have to earn them. ]

First! Let me cheat a little. [ He taps his temple with two fingers, pithy, almost a salute. ] And we'll get you something more comfortable to wear.

[ All he has to do when he fans his awareness out is locate the most overworked person in the vicinity... ]