She likely will remember that later, but right now she's too busy steadying herself, and feeling a little horrified that she had to grab onto the arm of a stranger to stay upright -- and right after being so competent at the bull, even.

Reflexes and pain tolerance, both without context, stabilize her. The sharp pain is dying back down, leaving a lingering ache behind; she feels entirely off-kilter but there's no way not to and she attributes that to -- everything that's happened today, and just happened. Mostly, at least. Not to mention having had a few drinks that she's not entirely sure of the alcohol content of.

Cam shakes her head, holding up a hand to stop him. "No, don't. Please." She shakes her head, dog-like, as though she can rid herself of whatever this is. "I'd figured out that there's --" She makes a face, frustrated. "Something that prevents trying too hard to remember. But, him." She glances at Jaune, still anxiously regarding her and takes a little breath. "I think I know him better than I know myself right now. And I still couldn't come up with -- Palamedes."

Camilla repeats the syllables, precise and careful and oddly warmed, as though someone's just told her a word in an entirely different language for something familiar and beloved and she's trying it out.

Which is almost the truth. If it wasn't his name, she'd still have no choice but to believe Jaune.

But how -- Does that mean he's not -- She tries to not think about any of the glimpses of memory she does have.

"I'm fine," she says instead, "It probably looked worse --"
It probably looked horrifying.
She gives Jaune a little rueful smile and allows, "Let's sit down," nodding at a booth and earning a little echo of dizziness for the nod.