He snorts a faint chuckle, a little sharp around the edges but- he's gathering himself little by little. It is enough for him to work on that same flourish and twist. This time? It is more steady, more fluid. Less shaky.

Mindless repetition, he can manage that.

"Adventure." He murmurs without inflection- the last thing he wishes right now is a tale of romance. He's sick to death of sentiment; even if it is the one grounding thing he has left.