He's sympathetic to clumsy injuries. Bodhi's never without a few weird bruises in inexplicable places, sometimes with very little idea where he got them or what he did to deserve it. Though as a rule he doesn't do anything about them except note their existence sometimes. A life spent tripping over things is a life that leads to pretty solid pain tolerance. "I'm sure you could, um, get directions from someone at the inn." The inn is Bodhi's answer to everything, the closest thing he can get to a cantina and a wonderfully convenient way not to have to commit to anything much because there are always bits of news and people passing through and mildly useful tasks to be found there.

Normally. Right now, the inn means people and noise and he'd really rather not. "I... I could show you where..." He'd rather not, but appealing to his sense of duty is quite effective.