Ruli smirked. [i]Too stubborn to die.[/i] "I'm not too bad. Nor is Sid. And theres bound to be others in the tent city that have the skills." He added, realizing a bit in delay that there had to be a tailor somewhere in the refugee camp. 
The mention of catching a cold and sending illness spreading through the camp made him look down at his flimsy clothing, and he frowned. Dammit. She was right. He wasn't bred for cold weather, and would easily fall victim if he continued to be stubborn. That, and bring the reason some sickness spread through camp was not another item he wanted on his list of misdeeds. 

"Fine." Ruli grumbled. "We'll look for clothing." He debated on repeating his earlier demand of 'no boots', but he wasn't sure he could get away with avoiding that any further. 

He followed her through the city, taking it all in. It was nothing like Ziad had been. Loud, brilliantly colourful, variety upon variety of people, food, classes, and races. He wasn't accustomed to it, but he enjoyed it. It was nice to be able to observe something entirely unknown, yet quite familiar. A busy city. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. Missed [i]people[/i]. He felt the long-dormant desire to sit in a pub or tavern and watch the day unfold. People meeting friends, chasing children, lovers whispering to one another as they tucked themselves away into corners so they wouldn't be bothered. The smell of body odor, tobacco, burnt meat, and stale ale. 
The excitement wrapped around the arrival of the bride-to-be was electric. Contagious. 

Kire's sudden statement about wanting to hurry caught him off guard. She'd fallen so silent, he's nearly forgotten her presence, and did not notice that she looked as if she felt the exact opposite as he did. While he wanted to immerse and idle, Kire's countenance stated clearly that she wanted to pinpoint her task and get out. 
Really, considering all that was happening, he couldn't blame her. 

"Yes, ma'am." He muttered, directing them along a crowded street, eyes landing on the many hanging wooden signs that boasted fabrics and sewing supplies. 

The first place they stepped into was crowded and loud, full of chattering women, young and old, trying to get last minute supplies to adorn themselves with in order to be presentable for the lord, and try to catch the bride's eye. Surely, she would need some small court of her own ladies, right? Of course, and only the most well dressed would be considered.
Ruli took one, five-second look before he turned and wheeled Kire out again. He might miss people, but he wasn't going to fight a bunch of clucking women for a bit of cotton.
The second, much further down the street, was far less crowded. Only a handful of women circled, one dragging a young boy along. He looked miserable, his eyes fixed on the window as if he'd much rather be out playing or looking for bits of food to eat. Deciding this place was much easier to swallow, Ruli stepped up to the first table, fingering through the neatly organized spools of fabric. They were aligned by colour and material, which made it easier. He went first to the light fabrics, gathering two spools of the paler colours, then moved to the medium material for the cooler nights at the caves, and then a few heavier fabrics. He asked Kire for opinions on colour here and there, as he, himself, preferred muted tans and browns, but knew others had more preferences.
Envy, for instance, enjoyed obnoxious colours and patterns. It was for the elf that Ruli grabbed a spool of a bright yellow and black plaid and a deep wine-red fabric with bright while paisley designs. 

Arms full, they stepped back out into the street, a few boxes of thread and sewing needles tucked away into his pockets. "We might need to swing back." He muttered. "Or, we can go grab food supplies, and then return just for lumber."