Yeah. Yeah.

"While I may already be fifty percent of the way to doing so, would you like me to hug you?"

"I-if, you d-do, I will almost certainly start crying on you, s-so as long as you don't mind t-that," she mumbles, the waterworks already starting to begin despite her best efforts.

Yeah. He no longer has spikes, so he can hug her.

Oh, okay, then. Yeah. Crying time properly, then. She will just be sobbing out of a mix of relief, grief, and general emotions, of which there are many and most of which she doesn't know how to describe. Because, holy shit, she is out of the Mists and back in Tyria and she can feel so many things again, she's really in properly supported reality again, but also everyone she knows is already dead and in the Underworld, and there's a hot guy who is holding her and who arguably personally saved her and that also elicits some feelings and -

Suffice to say, there's a lot.

That's fine, he's not in- actually yes he is in a bit of a hurry but it's not so much of a hurry that he can't console someone who has been trapped in the Mists for two hundred and sixty years. With the spikes withdrawn his armour is actually quite soft, and despite his necromancerness he is warm.

He is warm and he has a heartbeat, and the air smells a little bit oversweet mixed with fire and dust, and her muscles finally feel like they're real, and she can feel thirst and hunger and pain and tiredness and everything the Mists denied her is back, now.

Her eyes sting with her tears, and her skin tingles at where it meets his, and everything sucks, but she's out, and that was so insanely improbable and unlikely, and this is such a stupid time for her to be crying, and she feels like she's not living up to the tales people told of her, apparently, which starts a whole new round of crying -

- eventually, she does manage some words.

"W-what, um. Y-year is it?"

"It's, uh, 1329AE."