"Oh," he says dumbly when she hands him the pillow, like he's not sure what he's meant to do with it. He takes it anyway, and after a moment just holding it, the implicit offer catches up to him and he sets it gingerly behind his back, a nice bit of cushion against the shelves.

"Thank you," he says belatedly, perhaps to the pillow, the reassurance, the offer of water, or all three. "Er... water, yes. I - I'm sorry, I don't usually... this doesn't usually happen."

Which is a bad sign, he knows. Fainting is never a good sign, but it feels especially awful when there's no explanation he can find.

"I'm sure it'll be fine in a moment, maybe I just... got... too much air?" He laughs weakly. "I - I'm Martin, by the way."