No, no, it's... [She didn't need time, just the words to convey the depth of her gratitude. The longer she speaks, though, the harder it gets to form words. Her chest feels tight, throat tighter.]

I... was worried. For him. About being alone. [At least in the time that she could be worried. If there was one small mercy of her brief internment in the void, it was the fact that there was no capacity for thinking or feeling.]

But he wasn't alone, was he? [Something between a laugh and a sob wrenches itself from her.] So. Thank you. For that.