Nerys nods again, not venturing back into the house if Thorfinn isn't. Structurally, it's looking incredibly alarming, even to her unpracticed eye, and occasionally there are some awful-sounding creaks. It won't do them or anyone else much good to have to pull them out of some wreckage.

Instead, she walks over to appraise the pile of items, mentally sorting salvage and trying to figure out how the hell they can wash floodwaters out of curtains. "I hope she hurries," she says to him, and glances up at the second floor of the house in concern before turning back to shake his hand. "Yes, Nerys. You are Thorfinn?"