She murmurs in her sleep, something possibly unintelligible even if he did speak Russian.

Her hand comes up to brush his cheek, fingertips reading the bones in his face, little pinpoint touches that as a doctor, he'd recognise. It's not that dissimilar from what he might do to check if someone had fractured a bone, only feather light. Whatever she's searching for, she finds it in just a few moments and her palm settles against his jaw, a soft sigh on her lips.