Zerxus just stares, for a second, as it hits him that he just kissed a complete stranger who did not ask for it. The stab of guilty mortification is, at least, a distraction from overwhelming grief.

"I'm sorry." His voice is rough, and his expression is stricken; he looks like he's about to start sobbing, or maybe screaming. He feels like he ought to step back, except he's not sure if Neal is steady on his feet right now. "But, um, yes, we won. For now. We should leave."

Tempus is still out of range, but they can do this the long way, it's fine, it's fine -