Cool magic runs through him, humming softly and easing the ache. He swallows without difficulty and there's a moment of relief there as he swallows again to make sure. His breathing evens too, his diaphragm finally understanding that he's not moments from shock or suffocation.

"Thank you," he bids to Chris, no longer at all croaking, but he does still bury his face against his love's chest. He shouldn't. He should be the one wrapped around Chris, and it makes him raise his head again after that momentary indulgence, shifting so they're eye to eye instead of his body tucked into the hollow of Chris' chest; no matter how comforting that is, he's not just going to take.

"I will, but only if you agree to the same, for the same reason. We are neither of us delicate, even if we feel fragile at times" He won't let Chris focus on him entirely just because he'd cried too. Chris doesn't get to shy away anymore from the hard talks.

But neither does Hawke.

"They had Grayson take my throat. And Amelia cut on me. Extensively, but not at the same time. They both did the best they could, I don't blame either of them. I'm not angry at them, but I am angry at any of it happening. At the Creator for making it happen. On a whim.

He feels that prickling of his eyes again but fights it back this time.