Convincing him could and would take some time; it went without saying that his confidence was fragile. Nonetheless, his relief was real, tension sagging out of his frame as he let out a deep huff from his intakes. "Good. I'm-yeah. Had enough of that," he adds with grim humor, optics falling back down to rest on the hand on his.

So small.

"Just wish I had enough control for it not to happen in the first place," he adds, bowing his helm. It's a bitter want that he's expressed before; he's tired of having these...stints of weakness. Relapse. But if nothing else...

At least he's come to trust Rung, and can feel easy with not being at ease- when around him, that is. He can tolerate being...like this.

The sagging helm, with only their size keeping it from outright resting on Rung's shoulder, is show enough of that.