[ With the child folded into his arms, gasping and desperate and mad with some sort of prolonged madness, Reigen's work is cut out for him. He continues to make soothing sounds, running the flat of his hand across the slim width of the child's shoulders in easy, smooth passes; it's methodical, practiced in a way that suggests he's used to working with his hands, beyond just articulating with them like some sort of octopus on too much caffeine. While he settles the child, who seems only able to clutch at his knees for the moment, he's able to divide his attention between them and Amos.

He doesn't move to unfreeze any other Atirat, because he's going to have to ensure the ones he cracks open don't collapse immediately into madness and turn violent. They're people in need, not eyesores to be ignored and forgotten. He watches, as Amos dutifully gets the bowl filled with food and brings it over. ]

Maybe, maybe not. You're doing good right now, though. That's what matters. I'll save as many of them as I can, without going overboard -- that sound good to you? I'll have enough Sand in the end to weigh in on Zenith's needs.

[ The child seems to settle, to the sound of their murmuring back and forth to one another; the heave of their back begins to even out, the flexing of their hands into pained? frightened? fists begins to soften. As they calm, Reigen reaches out to take the bowl of stew from Amos's hands and sets it on the ground close to where the child will see, once they lift their head. You're okay now, he whispers to them, me and my buddy here got you something to eat. There's plenty, so eat slow and don't choke.

Carefully, he aims the child towards the bowl, and watches them descend upon it like -- well, like they were starving all that time. It makes him think, makes him wonder a few things about the state of the timelocked Atirat. What it means, to truly be frozen in time. While the child sets upon the bowl, gulping down the food, he twists towards Amos. Puts his hand out. ]

Reigen Arataka, by the way.