[ Harrow looks hopelessly, helplessly lost, and also a bit like she's about to vomit on his shoes; it's an expression with which he is deeply familiar. The younger and more disruptive Gideon— though she may well be the only Gideon left, now, a scrap of half-eaten soul with a stolen name and eyes he's only ever seen in one place besides a mirror— jabs a thumb at him in open disgust.

God exhales a low, slow breath. He rubs a thumb at his temple. Around them, the world rocks and heaves. ]

I'm afraid you were out for a bit, Harrow. You've missed a few things.

[ To the accusation he does not even have the grace to look embarrassed: he is simply very tired. To the pair of them, he says: ]

I can assure you there's no current danger to young Harrowhark aside seasickness.

[ Now that they're ruled out the hemorrhaging, anyway. ]