She would kill for a decent inn. She rubs her legs, her old and tired joints and finally stands. She stands straight and proper even if she feels much more like slouching. Sleeping on a make-shift bed of furs was combined with her running around was not helping her body or her mood. Civility was...not high on the list of priorities.

"Someone like you, retire? I imagine you would go stir crazy within a week." Valamia could remark on how his insanity would likely worsen if he wasn't busy running off, doing whatever his madness tells him to. She wouldn't make that jab at him now. "Or decide to drink enough to pass out so that you don't go stir crazy."