He gets up, dusting spiders off of his trousers as he unhooks the water skin he had strapped to his belt. He hands it over so she can drain whatever water is left into her own canteen, gesturing offhandedly to the maggot that proximity has allowed him to spot in her hair. "You've got a..." he trails off: let her figure it out when she grabs the squirming thing.

He shrugs, though. Death happens, he rarely thinks to ask the hows or the whys of it anymore. "Maybe he got bit?" Which would bode well for his spider-search! He squints anyway, since she made him start considering, and now that he glances around the place there's certainly a creepy air about it. Where would all the dolls have even come from? Someone rob a trading ship stocked solely with children's toys? "Why? What do you think happened?"