[Paul pushes himself up the back of the chair, still in the process of pulling himself back together, and there's an unguarded sincerity in the way he looks at Palamedes, his eyes wide and softly disbelieving in their wonder.]

Like it's nothing.

[A murmured echo of before, as if offering help is as impressive or more so than taking Paul apart and putting him back together. It is to Paul, which speaks to a certain hypocrisy or hopefulness about him, depending on a person's point of view. He knows that he's been operating outside of the laws of exchange and power, making excuses to extend himself without reciprocation, but it's so much harder to do with people who don't understand the rules, who act as if they don't exist.]

If there is ever anything that I can do for you, for the Sixth, it's yours.

[It's not a vow sworn on ring or by House, or a promise of a debt. There's no ceremony to it. He has been untethered; here is a bind. It's as simple as that. If Palamedes calls, Paul will answer, and a part of the structure of the universe reforms itself. He relaxes back into the chair properly.]

I promise I'm usually more useful than this. [A diversion back towards lighter waters in the self-deprecation there.] And a better host. The bread is for you, if you want it.