"I-" He grimaces as a piece of his shattered psyche crashes into place, and the room he created inside his own mind flickers. When it stabilizes, the figure on the bed is noticeably younger, nineteen if he's a day with a face slightly softer from the remnants of baby fat Richard had mostly lost by the time the two of them had met. He's thinner as well, bordering on scrawny with a shock of vibrant blue hair that does nothing to hide the delicateness.

Richard doesn't seem to notice the change of appearance, his face drawn in concentration. "Do you trust me, Mede? Will you trust me if I tell you that you're fine, your body's fine an' nothing bad's gonna happen?"