The Balladeer gives her a slightly bemused smile at the pat, then turns to inspect his shoulder, touching it cautiously. Yep, still stings, but a careful shrug hurts less than it did before. He can move all he needs to; he'll just have to make sure not to sling his instrument over...

"Wait, what?" He turns to face her, brows raised almost to his hairline. "A dream? I - I guess that's not actually much weirder than everything else," he mutters. Why not a dream? "How did you get in my dream?" It must be his, after all; she didn't know about any of this.