That feels...wrong. (He didn't have things that were his, slaves didn't.)

But Daisy continues to sound confident about these things.

"I- as you say?" he agrees.

"I know it's a little overwhelming. We're not going to start you off with very much, just the cot and a table and a couple of chairs and someplace to keep food - you can have more things if you want them, but I think you'll be more comfortable taking it slow, am I right?"

That still feels like too much. But he's fairly certain she's right. He nods.

She catches the tension he's still under and gives him a hug. "You need a place to sleep, and a place to do things. And it won't work very well if you have to come over here every time you want a snack, it's important that you start getting enough to eat and we want to make that easy. So there's really nothing extra, there, it's all things that are important for you to have."

He leans into the hug slightly. "As you say," he agrees quietly.

Well. Hug can continue, then.

If Daisy doesn't have other things to do, Nova is happy to stay hugged for now.

The sandwiches have to go in the fridge, but they don't have to do it immediately. Hug hug hug.

It doesn't take too long before Nova gets twitchy about the sandwiches and dishes still being on the table. He pulls away to tidy things up.

Daisy lets him go, and takes the plate of sandwiches to put away.

"How are you feeling? Ready for bed, soon?" she asks, when they're done.

He thinks for half a moment and then shrugs. "I- probably?" he answers the second question, not entirely sure how to answer the first. He's not positive on his answer, he's used to longer days with far more heavy work than he's done so far today.

Hm. "Would you like a shower first?"

He hesitates, twists his fingers together. (He would like to be clean, it had been too long since he'd had a chance, and...)

"Please?"

"Okay. The shower's through Pradnakt's room, but she won't mind. And you can have one of her shirts to sleep in, I'll wash your clothes up before I go." She heads for the back room, checking to make sure he's following (and not panicking) before she opens the door.

He's not calm, but he isn't actively panicking. (His fingers are twisting and tugging into slightly uncomfortable looking shapes.) "Okay."

She pauses and turns back to him. "She knew when she brought you here that you'd need this; if she didn't want to let you she wouldn't have brought you here at all. Okay?"

He bites at his lip, and doesn't unwind his fingers (although they stop twisting quite so violently). "Okay," he agrees, his voice almost firm. (Although whether he's trying to convince Daisy he believes her or himself is not entirely clear.)

"Okay."

She opens the door and heads through - there's another door immediately across from it, and two on the wall to the left; the room opens out to the right, with the floor taken up almost entirely by a huge bed draped with a grey and silver comforter and piled with a muted rainbow of pillows. The walls, the bookshelves next to the bed, and even the ceiling are a magpie's nest of art of all sorts - photos, paintings, a few framed pieces of calligraphy, knickknacks made of metal and ceramic and cloth and glass, decorated boxes, and more, far too much to take in at a glance.

She continues through to the room behind the bedroom - a storage area, with a little alcove full of clothes near the back.

Nova follows her, looking around out of the corner of his eyes, attention lingering briefly on the pile of pillows. He stops in the door of the storage area, not quite sure whether he's supposed to be following.

She's back in a few seconds, with a big fluffy towel and a long black shirt with gold embroidery at the hems and on the sleeves. "There you go," she says, offering them to him.

He stares a both, making no move to take them. He can recognise them for what they are, but he's only ever had threadbare towels and thin, plain shirts. He darts his eyes to Daisy.

"It's fine, you can use them."

He's cautious as he reaches forward to take them, unsettled by the (in his opinion) finery. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"You're welcome," she nods. "The shower's behind you, the left-hand door."

He nods, and turns around to follow her directions.