He laughs. It slips out of him like nothing, and he isn't even sure why -- it hasn't been that long, has it? Or maybe it has -- he feels like he's been somewhere else for an eternity, but that maybe one or the other was a dream. Now he's not sure which.

But she's grounding, and the mystery isn't nearly as compelling as her face, and when she gets a good look at him, he gets a good look at her, too. He brings a palm up to cup her cheek and stroke her face with his thumb and he beams at her.

"Very confused," he admits. "But glad not to be alone in that. Are you alright, bella?"