The offer his arm entails comes with an entirely different risk for her. She wants to trust him, trust that after she helped him, he wouldn't turn around to stab her in the back (she's not stabbing anyone in the back, however much they call her traitor. She tells herself this often).

But he is--was her friend. At one point. She wants, desperately, to be able to trust him. To have one of those familiar faces not look at her with contempt.

She rests her hand on his arm.

"You're hilarious." She mutters to him dryly, before her expression shifts to worry, glancing him over. "Shopping has become hazardous, of late, it seems. What kind of shopping were you doing to get a Red Templar on your tail?" Ha ha, get it? Because. Shapeshifter. She takes a moment to admire her comedic genius, before she remembers that the mention of a Red Templar calls for a quick scan of the area, to make sure her own shadow hadn't come found her, yet. Is he off on a task of his own, or did she just manage to lose him? She doesn't know.

"And how hurt are you? Dying in the middle of the market is hideously tacky."