It is cold, that hasn't escaped Lorne's notice. Right now the choice is between being a bit chilly and having anything more than the lightest of cloth on his back, and the former is definitely winning. The house is warm enough that he's not actively freezing, and the kitchen is even warmer. Briefly he considers rejecting the offer, insisting he's capable of doing it himself, but that's pride speaking. The less he needs to reach and bend, the better.

"There's tea," Lorne says, gesturing towards the kitchen. Alcohol might be nice but Lorne prefers to keep his wits about him, even if it might dull the pain. A kettle is already set out near the hearth; cups are easily available on shelves and Lorne indicates the pantry and a box of tea. Dain's still very welcome to have some too.

The chair he sits in is turned around so he can spare his back. Lorne drops into it wearily, arms resting across the top with the rumpled shirt for a bit of extra cushioning. "...Thank you. For the help." Beat. "I wasn't expecting to see you."