Renaud, knowing he had taken plenty of time to speak for himself a moment ago, waited patiently as Cera spoke. He felt as if he was in a commander's tent pondering maps and battle plans on the eve of a great fight. His fears and worries were being forcefully buried under a wave of drive to get something done.
As Cera began to discuss new clothing, Renaud wanted to open his mouth and make it known that something was unnecessary and certainly not anything that Cartier had a right to ask for, but then Cera took a sort of unconscious step forward and the words caught in Renaud's throat.
There was an odd fluttering in his chest as Cera's eyes flickered away from the soldier's gaze. The long-haired man continued, seemingly unaffected, joking about medical supplies.
"Well ... " Renaud's voice wavered as he began to speak again, an odd instability having reached into his chest and taken hold of his heart, "That, uh -" he cleared his throat and continued. "I suppose you shall 'stock up' if you like, but I have not made a habit of getting myself wounded. Present circumstances notwithstanding." He smirked, and glanced around at their surroundings.
"You offer more help than I could ever ask you for. I would very much like to meet this Wessex, and this guild." A to-do-list was building in his mind.
"And clothes ... It feels unfair for you to spend time hunting and bartering just to procure me new boots." A wide smile appeared on his face as his eyes flicked back to Cera's. "However, I will need some different clothes to fit in, I suppose. Not to mention the nip in the air." He laughed quietly. "And these are filthy, aren't they. If you wouldn't mind too much, Cera, I would accept your help."
