He can't quite muster a laugh this time, just lets out a slow, shaky breath and stares dopily at Jedao, looking something like a massively overgrown, lovestruck teenager.

"... thank you," he finally murmurs, and about the same time finally musters the presence of mind to wipe his hand off on the leg of his thoroughly soiled jeans. He's a sticky, disgusting mess, and he should probably shower sooner rather than later, but he's having a hard time caring.