"I honestly don't know, now, which I'd prefer," Azwel murmurs softly. "I can scarcely think on it, any more. Everything's in a sort of... peaceful fog. Warm and soft, and... sleepy." He pulls in a breath in that involuntary manner so common at the edge of sleep and lets it out in a soft sigh. "'S'true," he continues sleepily, "We'll recover. Won't let this... place... beat us down...."

Between the lingering exhaustion and that gentle touch he's swiftly losing the fight to stay awake.