[Little choice but to meet his gaze now, the way Arenvald ducks down to seek it. Connor's lips thin, and he tries to straighten; after being carried half upside-down for quite a long way, he's in a vaguely disheveled state. Mussed hair and jacket settling slightly askew on his frame.]

I'm fine. [He forces something that sounds like stability into those words. Easier to do, now that his syllables don't run the chance of sounding garbled and far away, though it's still strained] Though not a particularly pleasant experience, I have you to thank for escorting me away from it. So... thank you.

[let's just not talk about it]