The man beneath him sounds as if he can barely breathe. Regrets are definitely occurring, even as open and slick as he is.

"F-fine," he gasps, face pressed to the bedroll. God. He feels as if he's being impaled on his own lance. But Gaius's voice is wavering and that gives him some sort of courage, a smugness that his body is the one doing this to the cocky Garlean.