The clearing of her airways is a relief, even if little else about the situation is. Yenh presses a kiss to Ysanne's forehead, lips lingering despite the overwhelming smell of smoke and the taste of soot.

She carefully folds Ysanne's arm into a resting position. Her head lifts to scan the chaos for any sign of Ysanne's bodyguards. Or, frankly, anyone better suited for her care at this point.

"I need medical help over here," she calls out.