It's not the flat rejection Dain anticipated, which is both a relief and somehow even more worrying. Tuo's hands in his -- they're the slender and steady hands of a crafter, but also much colder and shakier than they should be, and Dain tries not to think about what might have happened if he didn't come, tries not to imagine those hands blue and nearly lifeless. Things would have been alright, he tells himself firmly. Things are going to be alright.

"I'm sure Vervain wouldn't mind having Alvi for one night," Dain answers, sounding much more sure than he actually is. He may need to leverage his authority a little, much as he'd like to avoid it. He breathes out slowly, a plume of warm air over their hands. "And I'll make sure you're both safe until the morning. Come, let's bring as many of those blankets as we can."