[ Ashe’s room doesn’t look much different from his room back at Garreg Mach – which is to say, there are already books everywhere. His bow and quiver sit propped against his bed, while his coat and the sweater he wears beneath it (both still ruined, still blood-stained) have been tossed haphazardly over a chair. Ashe himself has finally seen fit to change into loose-fitting clothes for sleeping, though he has been awake for a while now, sitting up in bed with a book.

He glances up from the tome as Mercedes enters. There’s still a weariness that seems to permeate his very being, but he smiles warmly at her all the same. ]

You’re not a bother Mercedes. [ Even with that bombardment of questions, which he answers in order: ] My side still aches every now and again, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m not really sure that I have much to talk about, and… now that I think about it, I am pretty hungry.