"It's the mold... causes the sickness, the hives."
He seems to draw himself up and holds out his hand. In the drizzle of rain he flakes off some black substance from his fingertips. With a loud display of phlegm hurling, a horrible cough racks his body as he turns away from Astalos.
"Got me outta a few day of rowing... not sure it was worth it now."
Still wheezing through asthmatic sounding breaths, he takes a few steps back up the alley, pausing after several steps to look behind him.
"We should find an inn... a real one." His nose crinkles in disgust as he overlooks the scene of grime and violence.
