"I will do that," he says. His mind is slightly on autopilot as he moves about the space, and even if his nerves are being slow to relax, his muscles and body are showing visible signs of improvement. Skellig gathers up a fresh kilt, another cloth to dry himself, and then takes his leave - pressing a kiss to her hair in silent gratitude as she works to continue unpacking.

He isn't long in the hot spring, but does take a few moments to collect his thoughts, tries to organize them even just slightly.

"She would never spit upon you," he mutters quietly to himself as he wipes away the salt. "You are better than that. Worth more than that. Not a freak."

There is a sting behind his eyes that threatens, but he allows it to fade as he finishes cleaning up his body of the salt, collecting his thoughts a moment before he returns to 'their' section of the Lair, their nest, which is becoming more familiar and a comfort. He can smell some of the Chai tea as he enters, spots a cup waiting for him on the table.