When he can find his voice again, when his breath has steadied enough for words to form against the ragged edge of sobs swallowed down, he thanks him. Softly and endlessly in Antivan, a desperate curl to it that he cannot shake. This is real, Anders is here, and it is over.

All he needs is this. A hand in his hair and a heartbeat under his ear. Someone to remind him that he is not on the hook.

It takes some time for him to wind his way down to a half doze and even then, the grip he has on Anders' robs is tight.