The boy didn't have much heart to stop the gerettet from his work, ignorant of his sutures and perhaps more than a little thankful some of the load was taken from his shoulders for a day. He stayed in his simple robes, modest, though didn't complain when Ardnt stripped down to his tunic. Though the man was foreign and he hadn't been acclimated to working with their more... mysterious patients yet, the monk that accompanied them put his mind at ease. And if there were any positives to say of this foreigner for sure, it's that he worked fast.<br/><br/>Their night ended late, when patients no longer roamed and had all been called back to their beds to be given their meals and check-ups for the night. Wendelin showed the sooty man to a new of clothes and a bath, leaving him in peace to change and return to his bedside however late. The idea of a curfew was implied quite heavily but he refrained from putting limits on a gerettet that wasn't his responsibility, especially as a lowly acolyte. Some of his peers had lit the lights along the halls as night fell and retired to the kitchen to prepare and distribute meals among their few patients, and while the lot of them were eating near their bedside Luitwin began to fret. Even he wasn't impervious to the fear of Ardnt lashing out within the monastery. Regardless of the open soul he prettied himself up as, a criminal all his own being allowed to act outside a schedule was still a lofty job to keep track of.<br/><br/>A pattering of slippers made rounds through the cloister, and curiously around a few corners, coming to the balneary near which he let Ardnt off at. He uttered a quiet "Ah--" of surprise, and a sigh of relief when he nearly ran into a damp and underdressed Alrian. "I see the boy kept you late, got all that tension out of your system then? Come, you should eat. Then I'll let you sleep." Despite the time he wasn't about to deprive Ardnt of a meal, though he knew just from his interactions with the man that it'd be nothing he'd show excitement over. The monk was just an ounce of haste short of pushing the man back to their patient hall, setting a now lukewarm plate of fish and lentils beside his bed, along with a slice of fresh bread. It wasn't unlike how he gave Ardnt his meals back on board, though Luitwin would hope he could at least appreciate this more than stale bread soaked in old stock.<br/><br/>While Ardnt was practically forced to eat at such an hour, others were wrapping up their dinner or preparing for bed. The fellow with the bad leg was having his dressing checked over by on of their own in black robes. Clattering filled the room as two other monks set the dishes back on a cart they were brought in on, and Luitwin waved them off under the pretense that he'd carry the last plate in himself. He made sure to fold the robes Ardnt carried, setting his beads neatly on their center and tucking them away into a chest at the end of the bed. While dutiful, often his thin hands shook with an anxiousness and his eyes drifted as if deep in thought.<br/><br/>Morning would come soon, and yet felt so very far away. And he stressed to wonder if the changes ahead would be any greater than those he made for himself, any more dangerous than the man he stole from a cell. To be freed from his vows seemed like such a terrifying prospect, and only because of the lack of faith he had in himself.<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>It was late into the night now, long after he left Ardnt in bed. Luitwin hoped he wouldn't hear of the chatter between their other patients, curiousity and skepticism about a guest from Alriah. Perhaps not as malicious as some of their past, more xenophobic patients, older men suffering diseases of the lung and heart who took their anger out on the world. But it was gossip nonetheless. Hopefully when he made his final rounds before retiring to bed he wouldn't find that Ardnt had tossed up fists with another man under their roof.<br/><br/>Carrying a tall stack of clothes, he quietly, carefully paced down the room between their beds, putting away new sets in each patient's respective chest. And for Ardnt, just a spare couple changes of clothes should he stay no more than a week. He took his time, wary not to bump into anybody's bedframe, and especially not to linger at such an hour. He hadn't even his bottom robe on, dressed in only a long, white tunic and hose save for the bulk of his wool coat to ward off the cold, rosary tied so that it hung around his neck.<br/><br/>Luitwin couldn't seem to help but halt at the sleeping figure of his gerettet in the dark, illuminated by little more than the fires in the nearby hallway and whatever moonlight managed to stream in through the slivers of window that lined the upper walls. Slowly, he peered closer, brows knit and mouth parted, though he could feel his teeth grind. The man worked too hard to stay out so late, and those stitches were in bad shape. He could tell it from where he stood, with his tall, wisp of a shadow looming over the bed, eyes fixated on where the wide neck of Ardnt's linens dragged down his chest. Perhaps out of line-- no, definitely out of his mind, he reached a hand out. The same hand that had been tentatively raised at his side the moment he took that first step forward. A single finger traced the hard bumps of his sutures where they poked out from under his tunic. Clinical at first, and at least for as long as he'd try and tell himself. A thumb next across a nearby scar, the fingertips he placed on that bare patch of marred skin seemed to multiply. With the barest brush of his full palm against Ardnt's torso he yanked back his hand, startled by the smallest breath from the man and only then did he realize he was holding in his own.<br/><br/>And just as he hated, Luitwin was lingering. Damning himself and shaky from how he tried too hard to calm his lungs. It was coarse, the divots where scars numbered, the feeling of hair under the flat of his hand. It made his body itch and throat feel hot and he just brimmed with discomfort that only doubled over when he lowered those same fingers again for a touch.