"Right," he murmurs in return, getting to his own feet. His legs wobble just a little as his energies struggle to right themselves: those aligned with healing counteract the ones that animate him, his limbs stiff and reluctant to move as a result. He offers her a hand automatically, not even considering the danger generally present in his rotting grasp; he still considers himself human at times, despite everything.

"Have you anywhere to go?" he asks. "Somewhere safe?"