For that one moment before he recognized her words, she too thought all was lost. The look on his face, as if all hope was lost... It was enough to make her own heart ache for him. The pain in those dark eyes was soul crushingly heavy, and whatever this man had been through, it made her own ordeals seem small and petty. She wondered, with such a language barrier between them, if there was any way for her to help him? Gestures and pantomiming only went so far when there were such big questions to ask. The first of those being, how he' ended up nekid and unconscious in the alley so late at night. Had she been human, it would have been easy to assume that he'd been drinking and had simply had too much. But her wolves nose told her that this man had not seen alcohol of any sort in a long while. Most certainly not since his last shower, and that was a long time past from the smell of him.

But then his face lit up and he nodded like an excited child, and despite his sticky thick accent, she could understand him. Mostly. Smiling, she gave a sigh of relief "Good! I was worried we would have to do charades" And then he was all but in her lap, nearly knocking her off her precariously balanced feet and onto her pretty little backside. She took his hands, both to steady herself and stop their incessant, desperate scrabbling. Arching a brow, she cocked her head ever so lightly at his words "Calm down. Who is going to hurt you. Where did you escape from?" Maybe if she could get some answers out of him, she could be of some help. Because if not, the best she could do was give him her apron to cover up with. And it only really covered the front, sort of.

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