Odd, Cullen thinks to himself. He wakes up cold, but it goes deeper than pale skin. The frantic urgency of his actions before, gone. The furious suspicion, gone. He sits up silently, and stares between Anders and his blood-stained torso. Slides a hand under his shirt to feel the closed wound - as if the fact that he is conscious and drawing breath was not indication enough.

This... is not the outcome he expected. He should think this incredulous, shouldn't he? Baffling? Rather than... merely unexpected.

"I should have kept my composure," he concedes dully, and looks up at Nathaniel as he rises to his feet. Weakly, but he disregards the lightness that fills his head. Embarrassment and shame linger in the distance, but they don't reach him. Little seems to, suddenly.

Cullen looks at Anders intently.

"You saved me. Why?"