[ He tries to think of an answer to his first question—where wouldn't he want to go...? He feels trapped here, suddenly, a chill spreading down limbs. Back to Faerghus. Anywhere but Faerghus.

He looks at Claude, and thinks of the previous winter he'd stayed with his family in Almyra—but suddenly that doesn't seem right. He can't remember what Almyra even looks like, can't recall any of the foods he had there. Suddenly the gym around them doesn't seem so bright and modern—they're sitting on the stone tiles of the monastery training grounds instead, surrounded by wooden dummies and straw soldiers, racks of weaponry rather than ellipticals and weights.

He blinks, and it's all gone again. He feels dizzy. Cold. ]

Ah, sorry. I think... [ Wow, this feels lame to admit after all that gloating, ] Think I might be coming down with something.

[ Probably from the back to back days of filming... (But when he tries to remember what the set was like, the weight of his armor and lance in hand... It doesn't feel like it had been acting...?)

The more he thinks on it, the worse he feels. He slowly gets to his feet, face feeling oddly warm. ]

Hate to bail on you, but I should probably be heading back...