The last little breath he has escapes in a huffed laugh, his smile growing boyish for a moment, and if color could still rise to his cheeks, it might have. He wants to answer, and he's going to, he's no stranger to discipline or to endurance. His hands tighten dangerously on the wood as he closes his eyes for a moment and parts his lips and breathes in, shallowly at first, and the thirst is there, it's burning in his throat, but when he opens his eyes again, they're just as pale as before.

"Must be difficult for you, finding someone nearly as appealing as yourself," he murmurs, keeping still for her scrutiny. He wants to nudge at her hand, turn his head into it, he would if it were Alice, but he's still cautious. He's the greatest risk for her if she does agree to stay, he'll do what he needs to do to train himself out of it. Part of that is going to be patience.

But he finally does tip his head just a little at the soft Russian that comes so naturally from her. "Ja dumaju, chto Vy bolee hrabry, chem Vy znaete. I don't know that I ever thanked you properly."