She was like that. Pragmatic, but warm. Passionate. Observant. The things she noticed and put together, and the way she pursued them ...

[Kratos's words are more murmured than before, and trail off before he can completely finish the sentence. With his eyes closed his mind finds it easier to wander, and now that he's had a short period of wakefulness the lingering wound is drawing him down into a proper sleep.

[He hears Yuan's final words; really he does. But he's already halfway asleep, and doesn't manage more than a wordless mumble of acknowledgement before going the rest of the way.]