[ Lune turns her head, pulling her eyes from the dancing flames of the campfire to give Gustave A Look; one that spells out without a single word that was not what she meant and that he's being stubborn and ridiculous. But it all tapers away into helpless, somewhat reluctant amusement. Maybe the reason she says nothing in protest is that deep down she'd rather not be alone with her thoughts right now, the companionship a balm against all the challenges and hardship they've already had to face. And because she's always struggled with expressing such sentiments aloud. ]

Oh, I don't know. Some wine probably wouldn't go amiss after the day we've had. That's absolutely not medical advice, by the way. [ Mostly because: ] Since I'm not actually a medic.