[Real or imagined, in his own head or otherwise, there's a palpable lifting of an environment that just moments before had pulled heavy and close without him quite realising it, the realisation only coming once it drifts away and he feels, once more, as though he can breathe again.

Julian's smile remains, and he flings one arm across his face dramatically.]

I don't know, Asra. I'm quite at a loss. Spoiled for choice! What does a starving man do when faced with an endless banquet?