He thought he'd done a pretty decent job. Nen'tah stepped back to admire his work against her garbled protests, head tilting to the side in puplike fashion as he surveyed his handiwork. The mess had been covered (to the best of his ability) with only a few scattered remnants left to show for it - satisfied, he chuffed softly and returned his attention to the distressed woman.

Her words poured out like venom, eyes flashing cold as she regarded him with what could best be described as disdain. Nen'tah was unfamiliar with being beheld in this way, and he felt the first stirring of something uncomfortable in his gut; but maybe it was just the result of a really, really bad day for her, and she otherwise wouldn't be so unpleasant. Otherwise what could he have done for her to be so angry? He had only tried to help when she was clearly struggling.

Won't, he agreed to her request, the first word to escape his lips since he'd arrived. It wasn't that speaking was particularly difficult, but he already found life much simpler when he could simply remain quiet and observe the world around him.

Some things, however, did require speech.

I'm Nen'tah. The child didn't smile, but his expression was open and curious, and it was clear he wanted her to offer her own name in exchange. Why're you sick?