He shifts his staff to the crook of his arm so he can rub at his injured fingers, checking to see he hasn't done any worse than skinned them (and his dignity besides.) Now that he's already admitted he's laughably out of his depth, the next admission is easier: "This is, uh. The first time in--a while. Forever, if I'm honest."

But if he's going to do something as bold as wandering out on his own, away from the safe confines of a tower and watching templars, he might as well make an outing of it. And it hasn't gone so badly except for the-- ...oh. "Well. Shit," he remarks, frankly. "Suppose I was going to wash these next anyway. Thanks."

He doesn't have to be asked twice to reach out for Kit's arm, finding it without too much fumbling. "Whoever conjured this has a hell of a sense of humor," he observes. "Poison sumac, of all things."