Agreed— and powerful as you are, I imagine magic of that caliber must have some effect on you, as well.

[Resting is just fine by him, even if he remains pleasantly surprised by just how renewed he feels. She really had done wonders, work to rival any cleric's, though the method was quite different.

He reaches for his tunic as she points out that he's free to get dressed, and feels his face flush hotly as he clears his throat, sliding one arm into it at a time.]

Best not to remain exposed in the middle of a dungeon, I suppose, yes. Wouldn't want to— catch a chill.

[Lame. He huffs at himself as he pulls it over his head and neck, then tugs it downward into its proper place, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair so that it's tousled properly.]

Though on the subject of clothing... Amelia, I have another favor I would like to ask you, if I may.