[Her answer only seems to draw out his own exhaustion, shoulders sinking with an apparent sigh. He lowers his hand to his side.]

I'm not just talking about a night of sleep. [If only that alone could solve all his woes; he shakes his head, partly to answer her question.] How many of these awful disasters have you had to suffer through? Knowing you'll barely have the time to pick up the pieces before the next?

[He avoids any explanation about his state of being—because what's happened to him is nothing. He is nothing, or close enough to reaching it; to specifically bring attention to himself would go against the wish that transformed him. The fact that he's reaching out to others at all rather than simply disappearing is more of a testament to Zekarion's willpower and lifelong desire to "help" others before himself.]