"The inn, dry clothes, and rest all sound welcome. Especially if warmth comes with it." His smile was small, polite, but real - and he extended a hand up toward her. "Might you help me stand, Shabbah?"

He wasn't sure how he felt. His lungs burned. He still felt somewhat tired, but the thought of getting dry overwhelmed it all. He had never been fond of getting his clothing wet. Now, in these strange garments, that hadn't changed. They were so odd. Shapeless, not covering his head as he'd much prefer. He needed a ghutrah if not a cowl. He'd make one if he could find the fabric.