Fakir's face fell a bit when Mesut described his diet. It wasn't impossible, more like time-consuming. He supposed he'd have to experiment how often he'd have to hunt for fresh meat and how often he could get away with feeding Mesut jerky. The snake did say he just ate large meals every couple of days. It relieved the centaur a bit. If he ate like that daily, he could only imagine how much heavier Mesut would have been. "Well, we're not too far from a sparse forest that has boars in it. How much red meat do you eat in a meal?" Fakir asked. "And no, it doesn't. That's why we salt and smoke it, like the meat you ate earlier. Keeps it from putrifying a little longer so we can eat while traveling and have no access to towns with markets or wild game," he explained. The centaur was actually fond of rare cuts of meat himself, it was just time-consuming to hunt or trap, then clean, gut, and cut the carcass for edible meat.<br/><br/>"Groom you?" Fakir repeated. He wasn't entirely sure what his personal warmth had to do with grooming. But still, he didn't mind. "I don't mind, but it's a little dark now. I was at a well before those thieves stole from me. I'll take you there when the sun's up and clean you up then, hmm?" Fakir offered. He didn't travel in the dark, not if he could help it, and if he did, it was always on a road. He could not and did not expect human sympathy if he broke a leg on a root or a hole, and the chances of meeting another centaur sent from their herd were slim. The herds only ever got close to each other when it was time for the Greet Meeting, when herds converged to exchange members to make sure bloodline didn't become too concentrated and deformed.<br/><br/>Fakir chuckled. "I might have blunt fingers, but I'm pretty handy with them. Who do you think has to do my braiding, sewing, cooking and cleaning?" he said before nodding. "But I'm fairly nimble with my comb. At least my herd mates have never complained about my work. Don't let them know I told you, but the stallions are rather vain, always trying to catch the eye of mares even outside mating season to up their chances once it comes around," Fakir chuckled.<br/><br/>"Alright, I'm going to sleep. I wager you still can't move too well on the morrow, which leaves it to me. Try to rest, Mesut. We'll get you as proper a bath with well water as we can tomorrow," Fakir said sternly. He wasn't sure if that was condescending, since, at least to his eye, Mesut seemed fully grown, but if the naga was as ignorant to the world as Fakir imagined, he may need to treat Mesut like a colt at times to get things done. The centaur shifted his legs to a comfortable position beneath him, ready to rise in two hours to doze off again. If he was in a stable, he might have slept all night on the ground but the scrappers had taken that option from him. "Good night," he managed to say, even as his back straightened and his arms fell limp at his side.