".. Alien .. bacteria?" Ned croaks, unable to wrap his head around what .. well, either of those two things might mean. Both are completely foreign and unknown in Westeros, and due to lack of cognitive ability thanks to his sickness, he cannot even begin to fathom using context. "Why would you be made of steel? Unless you are speaking of armor?" Even without the infection currently settling in his body, he would still have a difficult time making heads or tails of her references.

"I would gladly," he replies before allowing some of the liquid into his mouth, taking small sips in clusters. "I certainly hope you know that by now."