He relaxes his fingers, finally. "It's . . . somewhat better. I just need a few more minutes."

Anyone would have a difficult time . . . That's right. Even Near, cold as he was, had been affected by this. He remembers it, the vaguely saddened tone where he'd normally been unemotional. The minutely trembling fingers as he'd moved to start rebuilding the city of dice in front of him. Even someone that cold had not been immune.

A sigh, letting go of the tension. He opens his eyes, finally looking up at Lazarus. And he blinks mildly at the uniform. "You had one as well."