Sigrid shook her head. That seemed to be the response the old man wanted. "Perhaps not," she said, wrapping the warm blanket around herself after squeezing the water from her hair. "It's very kind of you to lend your home to me." A magnificent home it was, too, if a little bare. Unlike the manor houses she was privileged enough to see the inside of, the inside was not as opulent as the outside. No jeweled candle-holders hung from the ceiling, and the furniture was rough and built purely for function. Luxuries that Angle lords would keep for themselves, like marble and glass, are completely omitted. 

Small minutes later, she was shivering on one of the chairs, occasionally contributing a sneeze to the silence. "I feel like I'm intruding on your hospitality," she said, putting a hand up to her own forehead. Her hands felt like ice, as did the very air around her. "Is there anything I could do to make me feel more deserving of it?"