Krem laughed airily. He'd been caught out, though not entirely. It didn't mean he was going to say anything, to the contrary about Thomas's ability to hold his own despite his doubts, or about the fighting last night, or anything else.

"I'm fine," Krem assured to Thomas's concern. He was sore, aching, but it wasn't the worst he'd ever felt. At some point, he might need to see if Dorian could make him a potion. Now, he didn't want to get out of his bed.

"If you're so worried about laying on top of me, I could lay on top of you instead." Even with all the bruises and aches and pains, it wasn't particularly hard to reverse their positions. Now that Thomas was awake, Krem felt gently playful about being safely ensconced in the bed with him, being close and warm and swathed in the borrowed shirt from last night.

He rolled them so Thomas was under him and then settled himself promptly on top. "There. Now you don't have to worry about me."