The more they talked, the easier it was to believe that this old lady wanted to look after him. His instincts left him cagey, but Lashan is offering to feed and clothe him, when she had every reason to finish him off. He could accept that, for now. As long as her promise to let him leave was true.

"...Thanks," he adds sheepishly, not entirely devoid of gratitude. Being earnest came less naturally than a defensive, thorny retort.

He finds a dizziness hit him as he bends over to get the offered clothing, moving a lot more slowly than when he was trying to plunge a sword in her. He really was in a miserable condition, despite the haughty attitude he gave them. Moving his left arm too much agitated the pain of his shoulder quite a bit, so he relied mostly on his right.

A thumb runs over the cloth, lingering on its softness a little longer than one might expect. Small comforts were a rare thing, and the gesture seems to melt away the ice in his expression. He avoids looking at Lashan in the eyes directly, instead craning his neck over to glimpse at the exit.

"That the bath house?"

If there was any signage in the compound, he couldn't read it. He was following whatever stretch of village looked the most like it fit the bill.