The Egyptian night settles in, colder than expected. The air bites quietly and the streets are dim, lit by sparse lamps and shop lights, while buildings fade into dark silhouettes. Avdol notices you shivering before you say anything.

He steps closer, and without a word removes his orange coat. The fabric is warm, still holding his body heat. He drapes it over your shoulders with practiced care, adjusting it once to make sure it stays.

He simply steps back, folding his arms as if nothing unusual has happened, standing slightly upwind. After a moment, he speaks, voice low and steady.

"Cold distracts the mind," he says. "This way, you can rest..."