She leans forward slightly to peer at him, hand still on her sword. He seems to be telling the truth, but what he's telling her isn't possible. He seems more frightened thananything, and she doesn't want him to run away. She comes to a decision and sheathes the sword, knowing it will not take long to arm herself should she need to, by that or other means.

"Very," she admits. "But I don't dream. Or sleep."