Well. Let's see if we can't help that along, a bit.

[She reaches under her cloak, into a pack slung on her hip and concealed beneath the folds of it, and draws out a small handful of cloth sachets. There's a faintly cloying aroma to them, heady like incense — faint enough that you'd all but have to put your nose against it to get a proper breath of it, but there for someone looking. Or for a sensitive nose.

She offers them out to him, cupped in one upturned palm.]

Here. I found an herbalist. There's one for under your pillow, and another on a string you can put around your neck. For calming.