Names. Right, names at least are something normal. Names are a solid, grounding thing he can hold onto.

(Names hold power, something warns in the back of his head, and he quite honestly wants to tell it to stop for one minute. His head hurts enough and he wants for something to be normal.)

"Lancelot," he tells her, and he rather dislikes that for some reason he sounds uncertain about his own name. So he clears his throat, tries again more confidently. "Lancelot."

There, that sounded better the second time.