You needed each other, Matthias knew that much, but he could be damned if he admitted it. He hated this Grisha, despised everything they stood for. Yet here he was, trailing behind them, the bitter chill of winter gnawing at his bones, knowing full well the Grisha ahead shivered even more violently. He didn't care. Not anymore. Not when he had already surrendered his coat to them. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be leading them to safety, let alone watching over them as they trudged towards the distant inn, lost in the dead of night. They were both exhausted, worn thin by the near-death experience of the freezing sea. He could have walked away, left them to their fate, pursued his own path. But no. He was here, begrudgingly, keeping a watchful eye over this Grisha.

They finally reached the tavern, a quaint refuge amidst the frozen expanse, where only the foolhardy or desperate dared to wander. As they entered, Matthias wasted no time. He strode purposefully to the counter, querying the innkeeper about any nearby patrols or routes that might lead them back.

"Have any other Drüskelle passed through here?" he asked curtly, his voice sharp with suspicion. The innkeeper paused, eyeing Matthias warily before responding,

"A few have come through recently, heading further south. Seems they're on some official business."

Matthias grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering over to the Grisha standing nearby.When the innkeeper mentioned a room for two, Matthias declined without hesitation. He needed the Grisha close, needed to maintain a vigilant watch over them.

With a determined grip, he seized the Grisha by their half-frozen coat and pulled them along, guiding them up to the room. Nodding curtly, Matthias tossed a few coins onto the counter before seizing the Grisha by their half-frozen coat and dragging them towards the stairs.

"Come on," he grumbled.