Twisted Slough You've never seen a bastard orphan [m]ore in need of a break

Exit Tryphon!

He sank back on the ground behind her and, with his eyes still kind of glazed over, stared out at nothing. She was a white blot on his vision; the trees around them swayed as amorphous shadows. He knew something wasn't entirely proper in this moment. That he had been affected somehow, by something. But a part of Tryphon was content to let the adrenaline, anxiety, and mixed up hormones from the sexcapade siphon through him and away. Maybe content was the wrong word? He felt nothingness. A stew of everything all at once had overwhelmed his system, as it had during his last meeting with Saghani. He heard the stranger speak and held firm to those words with his mind; or rather, as firmly as he could, and gave a small soundless shake of his head. The motion repeated a couple of times - he became more aware of his snout, his teeth, his tongue, and gradually returned to his body.

N-no, the man managed, feeling his eyes growing sore from the lack of blinking, the sensation of fluid falling from the corners (not from emotion, just from their need to remain damp, as eyes often do). He lurched to his feet and with some odd motions, began to take himself away from the ghost who had done this to him. N-nno, I'm... I'm... fine he tried to say, but the more he tried to talk the stranger he felt, and eventually he was drifting off again — physically, mentally, entirely.