Cedar. [He repeats, tying the name to the tall figure of the boy he'd quickly describe as imposing under any other circumstance. It sounded strong, he thought with a hint of admiration.

But the concern isn't appreciated, not now.] ... never mind that. You don't sound too good yourself.

[Enough of this cold water. He quickly reaches to turn the knob, fiddling with it a bit, not knowing which way's which, before deciding to climb out. He's unsteady on his feet, but only from weakness. Blood loss. Not sickness, not fever, not anymore. His mind is sharp, any exhaustion is easily kept at bay by the pressing need to help the one who helped him.

Well, maybe not need. Want? He felt bound to help this one, call it honor, perhaps. It didn't matter to him, really, how it was decided, he just knew it was something he had to do now.

He looked back over his shoulder.] Take that thing off, leave it in the shower. Doubt they'll care. [Just... look at the place. It's a dump. One soaked robe isn't going to make much of a difference.]

The room I was in before had clean clothes and a bed too. [He turns to get him a change of clothes, but he's prepared to stop if there's something else Cedar has to say before he does.]