More confused than worried, and with the train ride continuing unabated, Handy decided he was in no condition to contest his circumstances. He wasn't in danger, she wasn't giving him trouble, and had ceased bothering him about his condition and circumstances when he ceased prying about hers. Frankly, all things considered, he was perfectly fine with that. Briefly he ruminated on something she had said before finally relenting and asking for some water. She produced a rather large canteen from her sacks above her head. The water was like liquid comfort pouring down his ravaged throat, and he had to keep himself from coughing it up.