He watched in relief when the witch (Svetlana, apparently) left the room. Alana was much more pleasant to look at. She had a tired face, but gentle features and a kind voice. He liked Alana [i]much[/i] better. She spoke to him about the liquid oxygen; so it wasn’t water that he was submerged in. Nabris nodded quietly before trying to get onto his feet with a grunt of effort.

“Thank you---” He said quietly, turning away from her and gratefully taking the undergarments she laid aside and sliding them over his exposed lower half.

“It’s freezing in here…” Nabris commented, looking over at Alana again when she mentioned Svetlana, and then asked him a question.

“I believe that she’s a wicked one… and uh…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing and then squeezing shut for a split moment. “Ah---it’s… it’s Nabris… right? That’s my name.” His golden eyes were wide when he reached for the clothes, taking them from her hands carefully and picking a shirt from the pile. He slid it on over his head, wincing at the fact that the fabric stuck to the blood on his back. 

“Where do I go now?” Nabris asked as he slid on a pair of cotton jogging pants.