[He watches the half-orc from the corner of his one visible eye, that devouring followed by the cleaning of fingertips that borders on delicate. It drags another smile out of him - warm, genuine - before he bites off another mouthful himself, continues on their way. It's dizzying, in its way, to find himself here in this bright places after months of being trapped in that other city-- a city he hadn't entirely despised, but one where he'd begun to feel stifled, hemmed in, trapped despite all it had to offer someone like him.

He never has been the sort to remain overlong in one place.]

Still can't tell what it is, though.

[He says it with a cheery shrug of his broad shoulders, the words taking on the colour of a vague musing rather than an expression of concern. He pauses though, when his companion continues to speak, the faint widening of his eye giving him the look of the confused.]

I, er... [It's an odd thing, still, to hear someone offering to help him, and there's one moment where he means to spin his usual lines, the words resting there on the tip of his tongue; that he doesn't need help, that he is the one who does the helping, that he'll be quite alright on his own. He catches himself though, hears Pasha's voice inside his head, her no-nonsense tone as she repeats his words back at him, a mockery of his own voice-- I'm Julian and I always think I know best, even when others only want what's best for me!.

He clears his throat. Tries again.]

I appreciate it. Thank you. That's ah, that's kind of you. Having only just met me. The more the merrier and all that, eh?

[It's filtering down to him, slowly, surely. The fact that everyone needs help sometimes. Perhaps him, especially.]