That much his is aware of. But he does not kill without it being a necessary response, and although the knight had her weapon drawn, she had not attacked unprovoked. He especially knows to be more lenient in a place like this where all are strangers, uncertain of who can be trusted.

With her sheathing her weapon, the warlord allows himself to relax, if only slightly. But he's become more receptive to talk, and he can relate to the sentiment of there being very little friendly folk- although here everything went against what he had become so used to. People willing to look out for each other, help and be helped, whereas the powerful would trample the weak and people took what they could, as they pleased, back where he had come from.

Her joke as it were goes over his head, but he does offer an almost hesitant nod at her suggestion of chatting. As though reminded of the cold, he cranes his head to glance around their surroundings. In warmer weather the empty and ruined buildings were barely welcoming, now coated in winter they look all the more bleak and abandoned.

"Wood for the fire, or perhaps I shall come upon some sort of creature that others may find useful for food or its furs. I did not expect to come upon someone new to the city, but I do not think I am wrong in assuming such of you."