As Rene returned to the bed and wrapped his arms around her, Solae was slowly soothed out of her violet mid-nightmare thrashing, the tactile reassurance soothing away the panic induced by her horrifying dreams. The diplomat's wailing ebbed to a quieter sob and shifted into silent tears before dissipating entirely. Her night terrors' grip on her was loosened by the physical presence of his reality. Visions of being trapped under impossible mountains of rock simply could not be sustained when she became subconsciously aware she was being embraced. Corpses and taunts dissolved into nothingness. She wouldn't soon forget the troubles that plagued her, but their torment would fade long enough that she could rest or function outside of reliving them over and over. Once she was cognizant, having such an incident would likely propel her into admitting they could use a professional therapist if they intended to rejoin civilized society again and not be irreparably damaged by their trauma.

"I'm tired," she breathed groggily as she started to wake. Brushing hair out of her face, she remained where she was pressed next to him, apprehensive that if she moved even an inch away that she would return to the phantom realm of death in which she had been entrenched. "I'm tired of running from him," she explained with a sigh. There was no need to divulge a name as only man represented the threat to their life and chased them across the universe doggedly.

"Sir Rene," Mia interjected in her typical sensual tone, though there was the barest hint of disapproval as if she had witnessed Rene's race for his gun and couldn't help but make her displeasure known. "I can summon the others for an audience with the duchess when you are ready." Technically, Solae still could not make the decision herself. Standard protocol was at least twenty-four hours must pass before she could accept directives from someone who had been compromised by the use of pharmaceuticals or illicit drugs. Her mistress was coherent but she was bound by the technicalities.

"I need to talk to Bouradine and Bel'sian," the linguist groaned, not moving from her position of being curled at her lover's side. Knowing she ought to do something and convincing herself to actually lift herself from under the covers was another matter. Fortunately she had adapted to the bizarre combination of numbness and sensation in her legs and did not find it as jarring a hours before. The synthetic braces silently accommodated her as she restlessly bent them at the knee and stretched them out. "Pants are out of the question," she added with a sigh. A social faux pas was the least of her worries... assuming, of course, she found the motivation to do anything more than dose with Rene holding her.