"Well, I've drunk water from here and haven't died," Fakir shrugged. It perhaps wasn't as clean as the water Mesut was used to, but the well was connected to a spring of groundwater, which was fed by the rains. THe centaur almost lunged when Mesut dragged himself onto the side of the well but settled for keeping a keen eye on him instead. "Get down before I suffer a heart attack. I don't know how old the well wall is," he gently chided, even as he tossed the bucket down. Hearing a splash and testing the rope, Fakir drew the bucket back up, sloshing with water. Once he pulled the bucket over the side, he gave it a sniff himself, his nose sharper than a human's. Satisfied, he took a sip before moving to retrieve the water pouch to fill that back up first.<br/><br/>With the second bucket, he gathered Mesut back down and unceremoniously dumped the bucket of water over the naga's head. Using a clean rag, Fakir started to rub most of the dirt off Mesut's body. His touch was purposeful and practiced, Fakir having been enlisted several times by the mares to catch unwilling colts for a bath. Luckily, the naga seemed intent on being clean again, and Fakir didn't have to deal with thrashing hooves and tiny fists. He took a quick peek at the wound at Mesut's side, and it didn't seem worse than yesterday. He decided he'd finish bathing the naga first, then, so any other dirt he washed off didn't get back into his tail.<br/><br/>"To protect my skin. My pelt protects me from stray branches and thorns, but my skin does not," he answered as he tossed the bucket down for more water. "It also keeps humans from being too disturbed by my presence. They're... hmm..." he mused on a way to describe them. "They are complicated, but in some aspects, they're very simple. One thing that comforts humans, or at least doesn't scare them is making them see things they're familiar with. New things usually scare humans," he said as he returned to dump the bucket over Mesut's head this time. Like before, his fingers dug through hair without pulling too hard, extracting twigs and leaves with a deft touch. Occasionally, he pulled a knife out of his belt to cut away an impossible knot or a twisted piece of debris, but the cuts were small and didn't disfigure the shape of his hair.<br/><br/>Once Fakir was satisfied he got the worst out, the centaur sat down so he wouldn't have to keep bending over, pulling out his comb. He worked at the bottom of Mesut's hair, occasionally dipping the comb back into what water was left in the bucket to rinse the teeth. He would pick at it first before smoothly pulling the comb through, watching hair unwind. It was thinner than his, so he had to be more careful not to break the strands, but it wasn't unsimilar to combing his hair when he was washing out mud plaits. "You'll find that while we have more natural defenses, humans are great in number, and seldom united. But once they're given a common enemy, they swarm down like locusts. Many creatures like us do their best to avoid human contact. They can be rather relentless," Fakir said.<br/><br/>He sighed, shaking his head. "Which is a shame. I've seen them build things of great beauty and make great art and music. Like your temple, of the daggers stolen from me. I've never understood the violent duality of their nature. Some humans are so remarkable kind, and so few in number," he lamented before checking his work. He'd gotten Mesut's hair untangled. Snorting in satisfaction, he rinsed his comb and dumped the dirty water before grabbing another bucket to give Mesut one more rinse, since he lacked any soap. "Did you want your hair in a certain style? I can do braids best but simple hairstyles, I think I can do too," he asked as he doused Mesut's head again.