She shifts in his arms a touch, but only so she can rest a little more comfortably. Listening to the song, it's something to think about that's not everything that just came over her, the snowmelt needing to come out of her eyes. Her body is more relaxed, and when she does move for real, it's only an arm, extracted to pry the glasses off her face and drop them in the vague direction of where she remembers her bag being. They can be dealt with later, when instead right now she would prefer to stay where she is.

She's collapsed, but not fallen. The sensation is a marvel every time. As if that whispering ghost who tells her to control herself is really two worlds away, and not clinging to her heels. As if her hands can't find a place to grasp Helena's shoulders, when a friend has her in an embrace instead.

Like this, she could almost sleep. Nightmares might not even come to wake her.