Her anger at his lack of action feels distant and distorted now in the way intense emotions in dreams always seem to. It's the fear that sticks with her, less because of her own discomfort and more because of the realization that he must dream about this shit constantly. It makes sense, and she should have thought about it before, but... Somehow, she just never considered it.

Kyna crosses the room and perches on the arm of the couch by his feet, wanting to be close but not sure invading his space is a great idea. She's quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip.

"Are you okay?"