The warmth is good, and he's glad she's thinking about that. But he's more worried about her eating. He knows she could grab a healing factor from the machine, but that's not a guarantee of survival and it's wholly unnecessary besides.

"I'm gonna guess you don't have any provisions?" Before waiting for her to answer, he bows his head over the counter, needing to close his eyes a second to combat a sudden dizzy spell. "I'll bring you some shit."

All he does is can shit and knit and sew and shepherd animals, after all. Survival is the only thing left he remembers how to breathe in this place.