Alfred nodded vaguely, as though that answered her question. In a certain way, it did — he was feeling, and therefore not dead, and that was enough, wasn't it? Considering everything that had happened that morning. "Well, still a bit shite," he said after a moment, which was true. He didn't, for instance, feel very much inclined to get up, as strange as it was to be talking to her while laying down like some sort of invalid. He had regained feeling in his extremities, but his strength didn't seem to be back yet.

"But, you know. I'm here," he added with a very small smile. He moved to sit up a bit more in the bed, shuffling around the pillows he'd been given until he could look at her and not feel entirely as though he were on his deathbed and she was a mourning friend, or something. "How, ah — how long have I been out?"