The others face was gentle which was hard to trust. The Mans voice had initially been gentle and kind. Then he had hurt him. But the same could be said about a lot of people he had met in his life so far. Still, he was a little awed by the way the other had simply waved his hand and the bowls became gathered. What was that? Some sort of magic? The same kind that had Cursed him? Or the kind that had sometimes came from him when he was younger?

The other then used some sort of stick to make water. He took the bowl from the other, uncut nails curling around the bowl. He sniffed at the water, pushing his curtain of hair to the side so that he could peer at it better. It seemed to be clear water. From a stick. He sipped at it before downing it, the water cooling against his throat.