Leif carefully lifted one foot at a time, peeling the old, thoroughly worn boots from his feet and setting them upon a little ornate run that sat just within his tent to the left of the entrance. The young redhead glanced sideways at Taiga as he knelt down upon his pile of pillows before flopping back into the cushiony embrace of them all with a dejected sort of huff. What a day indeed, Leif agreed, though he didn’t vocalize the agreement with anything more than a soft grunt and nodding of his head as he stepped in and settled down beside his esteemed guest. Leif set aside the items he’d collected in a neat little pile before the nobleman’s question pierced his mellowed mind.<br/><br/>“My father, alive? No, thankfully that vile man’s been dead for quite a few years now,” he muttered with a small frown and furrowing of his brow as he looked over the beautiful if slightly grimy southerner. “Come here, sit up,” he ordered, though the soft nature of his vocals didn’t quite pair with the bluntness of his words. He reached out once Taiga had turned his back to him, using an acutely sharpened knife to rapidly saw through the thick ropes that bound his arms at the small of his back.<br/><br/>“I doubt you’d get very far in this encampment if you tried to flee, and I also seriously doubt you’ll try to attack me. You’ve never seemed like a man with a death wish, in my opinion,” he commented as he carefully tucked the weapon back into his belt before pushing the supplies over in his captive’s direction. “I’d recommend simply washing in here, just try not to dampen my quarters too much. We still have to sleep on these pillows,” he instructed before scooting a bit away from him and settling into a reclined position, folding his hands comfortably behind his head.