Credence's brows knit, confused but calmer than usual. It's something about his voice--not quite soothing but not quite authoritative. A mixture, perhaps, of both. He's lulled. That, and it doesn't take long to put two and two together, as fuzzy as his memory is.

Graves had patched him up, if only minimally, but he's not familiar with things like this. No, it had to be this one who did the work--he sees him, sometimes, but never for very long. He doesn't think they've spoken to each other, and yet here he is, waiting by his side, for him to wake up.

He feels a stab of something, and realizes it's gratefulness.

Credence is probably recovering just a little quicker than he should, and that is the dulled properties of whatever magic Mr. Graves could perform on him. It still leaves him in pain and in desperate need of this one's help, the one with the reassuring smile.

"I don't know," He says, and it's as close to a lie as he can get. It's fine. Everyone is safe, but him. "Lightning, like what happened to Mr. Ren?"