He doesn't know what to say, or more specifically what she wants to hear. He runs one hand up her back, fingers idly along her spine, resisting every temptation to just... hold her tightly against him.

"I am here," he assures her. He feels like it's a fever dream, that maybe he's not actually here, because even though the separation and his almost suicide are still hanging in the air, she's still kissing him like she wants nothing more than that.

Nothing more than him.

"I am here and I do not want to go anywhere else, not unless you tell me," it's her mouth on his skin and the rum in his blood that draws out the honesty. "I am here because I want to be."