Luke opens his eyes, blinking a few times before his vision clears enough to truly see her. He had not startled at her presence or her touch; even now with the memories fresh, he seems to trust her. And the relief is, well, a relief. He hadn't known such things were possible, with the Force. There is so much he doesn't know. There's so much he's been left without, that having his father alive, and here with him... even having Misa, whatever she is to him, means everything.

He grimaces as he lets her help him sit, then stand, stiffly rubbing fingers through his hair as if worried about the status of his appearance after a night on the ground.

"I'm sorry," he says pointlessly. "I don't know... what that was." A nightmare, maybe? A memory? He still hurts, but he supposes that's to be expected. He fought a battle, yesterday.

Inside and out.