Dionisia grimaced at the rough, coarse sound of his voice. It sounded like he'd been crying—or at the very least his throat had become a victim to the wind of the winter evening. He didn't perk up, nor did he smile; in short, he obviously was not fine. Though definitely more of practical sort of doer, her soft, sympathetic side had never fully faded. Perhaps that's why a mediwitch was a good job for her: she could be active and move at a fast pace while providing comfort to those in pain.

Dionisia crouched down an arm-length away from his, allowing his features to be revealed to her. Though his features were familiar, she knew that there were many people out there she'd come in contact with. Injured patients, friends of patients, family of patients. The concern didn't leave her expression, yet she tried to smile at him nevertheless. He looked like he could use one, even if he wasn't in the sort of pain she was used to helping people through.

"You don't sound fine. At the very least you could use some water," she pointed out, her gaze wandering across his body. "This weather isn't good for sitting outside in—not without something heavy on," she said, pulling off her coat before offering it to him. "You'll get sicker. 'Already pale in the face, you know."

She wasn't sure if the nameless man was homeless or if he'd just fallen into a somber mood while out and about. Not many people usually chose to sit up against a house when they could be by the fire.