[Kratos sits there while Yuan fusses, watching him through his loosened bangs with some degrees of weary, resigned amusement while he stretches. Arms first; he can barely move them, being bound over his head like they'd been. Then his legs, ginger thanks to the ache in his calves.

[He doesn't attempt to rise until Yuan helps him up, and that strikes an ache all through his body which makes him grunt. Yes, leaning on Yuan is definitely necessary, at least until he's worked all the stiffness out of his limbs. Kratos takes advantage of that lean to shift his weight, to neatly pull Yuan into an embrace before Yuan can try to step out of it with augmented speed or strength.

[At first, he doesn't say anything. There's nothing, really to say. But he does wish, one of the few times he has, that he still wears the crystal; that he can still use telepathy. He wishes he can broadcast his gratitude the way they once had, without words, with pure feelings only. A hug is the best he can do.

[And, exhaled:]

I'm sorry.