Oh come on. What's with the stunned staring? Hadn't she seen bare chested man, scarred bare chested man? Well, perhaps she hadn't. How old she was, anyway? The documents stated their age difference wasn't that stark, but who knew how beings from other realms like her aged and Ryan felt decades older than her, although this... This case with Zofies had somehow bridged the age gap partially.

A moment before he'd have reached to grab the rag himself, she handed it to him and he got to working. Most of it passed in silence and Ryan honestly didn't mind it. He'd honestly rather not know what she was nodding to herself about. Maybe poisoning him right now. Well, it'd be waste to take him into her home and seemingly help to kill after or during, but it could also be the perfect revenge. Ugh, his mind was probably too tainted by things Zofies and their kind would do.

At Sophie's response about cheetos, an actual semi-smile appeared on his face and he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Huh, and here I thought it was nuts or something. But what does a city boy know, so noted." It had honestly surprised him, that'd she even slightly joke along not throw insults at him, but perhaps a sort of truce was truly formed for now. Good. He did feel too tired, even for verbal sparring.

When she was about to get to wrapping his middle, he held up hand, saying that he can do it, but, of course, she ignored it and the man sat still, head turned to side with slight frown as the girl proceeded to bandage him. When she finally retreated, he inspected her work and nodded. "Pretty okay," he commented and dressed again, feeling a lot more comfortable once clothed fully again.

He didn't need to be asked to eat, only able to compose himself enough to not stuff his face like a feral beast. The excessive use of his powers always made him hungry, but now it was just something else. And, man, did this stuff taste good! Even if good deal of it was frickin' sweet. And this water, this regular bottled water, was probably the best godd**n thing he had ever had. At her question, the man shot her a look and then shrugged. "Surviving."

If she showed any signs of disappointment or inquired more, Ryan frowned some. "No offense, but not feeling like retelling my whole life story right now and to be entirely honest, don't remember origins for half of them. After a while, all beatings and fights start to seem kind of similar and mix together." It was not 'entirely honest' as he had stated, at least not entirely, but hopefully it'd be enough. God, when was the last time when anyone asked a personal question to him? Anything beyond medical interest in his current state, in his capabilities? It had to be years. Man, was he a social failure or what. Or rather, the society he lived in was...

After they were done eating and drinking, he put the stuff back in his backpack and started to settle down for sleep on the cushioned area. The hammock was not a good idea considering his leg and he would probably be able to sleep on the floor right now, as long as he could finally close his eyes.

In the next morning, his actions depended on if he woke up before Sophie or not. If he had, he'd groggily stare at his surroundings, immediately grabbing for his knife, before his memory came back to him and feeling of having went through meat (and mind) grinder came back. Then he'd check his wounds, notice with amazement how they were healing and start to prepare to depart. For a too long moment, he'd stand in the room, staring at all the cupboards and shelves, considering if he maybe should make a meal for her to wake up to or if that'd be too much of... something. Besides, there was always danger of waking Sophie up with his rummaging.

If he failed to get up before the blonde, which would honestly be no surprise, the waking phase would be exactly the same, only he'd let the hilt of knife go immediately if she was somewhere nearby. Similarly, he'd mutter something about "sleeping like log and that he'd get going right away".