As soon as Mesut vacated his back, Fakir let out a loud, shameless groan, stepping back as bones audibly popped. He shook himself, mane and tail tousslingwildly as he shook blood back into strained limbs, stomping a bit to ease their tension. But he shot Mesut a small grin, as if to assure the naga before bending part of his upper body into the wagon to start moving cargo to one side to give him a bit of a more comfortably place to rest. Most of his goods were either in boxes, chests, or tightly bundled. He did briefly move to the driver's seat, which since he couldn't use, he had turned into a makeshift personal storage. Drawing a few of his horse blankets, he walked back around, tossing them out over the boxes so they didn't jar Mesut harshly, and the others on the floor of the wagon to create a makeshift sort of nest.<br/><br/>Fakir looked up from his work when Mesut decided to speak. Maybe he was feeling better in a somewhat safer setting. A low chuckle escaped him as the naga questioned the lesson hammered so early into his head. "No one said you had to learn alone. I certainly didn't. I was one hell of a stupid colt," Fakir said as he backed out of the wagon to examine his work. While the back didn't close, he did have a water-proof flap he could put down that he used for bad weather. It wouldn't be the warmest, but it would protect Mesut from the wind, at least. The front had a similar flap behind the tall driver's seat, though Fakir usually left it up to keep an eye on his wagon as he traveled.<br/><br/>"Lad, if anyone knew what normal was, we still wouldn't be it. Normal to each person is just what they're used to. My normal is different from your normal," Fakir tried to explain. "It's hard to explain. Words don't always say what we need them to. That's why you learn it," he said before shrugging. "That's what my guide used to say. Sometimes I think I understand, then I go back to being that stupid colt following him around," he smiled before looking over. "Oh, I should ask though, you have a name you go by? We should probably know if we're sticking together a bit," he smiled as he finally felt satisfied enough with Mesut's makeshift cot to tend his own wounds. "I'm Fakir."<br/><br/>He started to shrug off his torn linen tunic, sighing as he did. He soon had his torso exposed, his mane traveling down along his neck and a bit along the top of his spine, with just a bit of hair on his chest and leading down to his equine body. While linen wasn't too expensive, it still wasn't something he bought often. If those daggers weren't so expensive, he probably would have changed into a woolen shirt first. Well, he supposed he could put one of the blasted itchy things on now. They were too far from the well for Fakir to make a trip, but he was fairly hardy, and a simple bandaging would do until he could better clean his and Mesut's wounds. Tossing the dirty linen into the driver's seat, he extracted some cloth strips from his saddle bags before he carelessly tossed them into the seat as well, more than eager to get all weight off of him.<br/><br/>"Hmm?" he looked up from wrapping his arm. brows raising. "Groom? Er, when I can, I suppose. I don't carry water with me just to bathe," Fakir smiled. "But I still have to. Otherwise my mane and tail get matted. Nothing looks worse than matted hair you have to lop off because you can't untangle it. If I'm going somewhere I know I can't bathe often, I usually rub my hair with clean mud to keep it in straight braids," he answered as he finished bandaging himself and moved to his seat to fish out a woolen shirt. While he was down there, a thought struck, and he glanced at the naga. "Hungry?" he asked. Fakir didn't have much, since he usually ate at taverns, possibly buying a bit of food for the road since he didn't have time to hunt, but he did have some travel bread, cheese dipped in wax and a bit of mutton. He had no clue what nagas ate, but Mesut would have to make due with what he could provide.