He frowned a little at that. Cold and freezing and other unpleasant things have no place in surface girl fantasies.

"Not enough drink for that, really. But-"

He doesn't need to go back into the tent. Shaved chin he may be, but so far as he's concerned no proper dwarf is without a skin of something or other, sleep or wake. He produces it from under the blanket, not entirely sure anymore if it's ale or wine or whatever else he managed to mix together to fill it with last. He takes a swig before, hesitantly until he remembers the greater goal, offering it over.

"We'll see if we can't find what amount that might be."