There is a faintly dazed expression on the boy as he stands there, simply allowing Herbert to tend to him. He does not flinch as he is stripped and redressed, does little more than faintly purr when his hair is fussed with - something is happening, that much is becoming clear but he doesn't know what. Maybe it's just sunrise approaching.

It isn't until Herbert kisses his forehead, sighing, that a needle of fear pierces the fog.

"Might be a little what?" His voice is thin, he finds, when he tries to speak. His hand flutters to his throat as he tries to suck in a breath, finding that it sticks and rattles in his lungs.

"Herbert? I don't...my chest feels...tight...."