[In many ways, L understands Paul's plight, along with the pressure and uncertainty plaguing him. While the weight of a kingdom may rest on the shoulders of its leader, however, what king is without advisors, generals, and ministers? They exist for a reason; their counsel is not worthless, there for show or to fill out a court.

He might say so, if time wasn't of the essence. Another occasion, perhaps; he suspects it will come up again, and that the plaintiveness of Paul's need is not a flash in the pan.

It's alright. He's secure in what he's tested, understands its process in several environments, all of the breaking limits. That easy confidence of a man who knows must be contagious.]

Oh... yes, that makes sense... I'll take care of her.

[He is grateful that Sophia is staying with him, maintaining a sort of balance that isn't strictly necessary, but will certainly be comforting to a man who only learned he had a soul at all in Trench.]

Before you say it... take the stone in one of your hands, get comfortable, however you want to sleep. It'll happen faster than it would with a potion.

[It'll be alright. Lycka cleaves to Paul's side, following him to the bedrolls, and L gives a quiet signal for the soft-eyed acolyte to say the words when he has settled in.

When it's done, he nods briskly, lifting the incense stick.]

Mesk avandajet.

[Go. He knows before the last syllable falls that Paul is out, and rises to collect the stone. He addresses Sophia as he settles cross-legged on the floor.]

Don't fret. He'll be OK; Lycka and I will see to it.