"I'm —" S starts, already nodding as he speaks, instinctively starting to say I'm fine. It's both true and not, though, and not really enough to actually say. No matter how much he wishes he could downplay whatever just happened, he doubts he would be all that successful if he tried, not because he couldn't sound convincing but simply because J was there for all of it. As much as S hates having worried him, it would probably be worse, he thinks, if he pretended like it was nothing when they both know it wasn't. Besides, as hard as it is to think about J feeling the way he just did, it helps, too, to know that he gets it. S can only imagine how much more frightening it would have been without J to hold him and talk him through it.

So he opts for honesty instead, expression soft as he looks over at J. "I'm a little lightheaded," he admits. With as hard as it was to try to catch his breath, to breathe at all, for a few minutes there, he figures that was probably inevitable anyway. Still, he would rather not dwell on it, or continue worrying J, any more than necessary. "Water sounds good." He doesn't really want to pull away, but they did come out here for a reason; as a momentary compromise, he opens the drawer, the one furthest to the outside of the kitchen, that he's been keeping the menus in with his free hand. "Menus are in here."