The last thing she wants is for him to be afraid of her, but it passes quickly enough that the worry doesn't even have time to fully form in her mind. Pyrrha presses her face into the crook of Jaune's neck, lips ghosting just over his pulse - and it's nice that her dream version seems to have a pulse, seems to be so undeniably alive. Even if it's all a farce - god, she's going to hate waking up.

"You don't have to be afraid of anything." Pyrrha murmurs quietly, her brain still trying to unpuzzle everything Jaune's saying about a lucid dream. It nags at her - inbetween the desire to just ignore it, to enjoy the moment while it lasts. She settles on the latter, simply because she's so tired, but the thought that there's something more to this isn't banished completely. "I'm happy too. Really, very happy, Jaune."

Pyrrha's hands move up to cup Jaune's cheeks inbetween them as he starts listing off things in return, and she pulls back enough to smile at him, watery though it may be. "You were my very best friend. I want you to know that. I - have you looked at yourself? Really looked?"

"How could I not feel that way?" Pyrrha asks, and whether she's asking Jaune or herself, it's not entirely clear. She laughs again, leaning in to press a light kiss against Jaune's cheek. It's her dream, she's well allowed, certainly. "You beautiful, brave boy. You never looked at me on a pedestal. We were always on the same level. You...you were Jaune, and I was just Pyrrha."

"You did." It hurts to use the past tense, but there's no getting around it. Pyrrha nods, her own smile echoing his sadness. She wanted to hear it, even if it hurt. Hear what could have been, or whatever her brain was about to provide her. "I would like that very much."