Thomas takes in his appearance with a bit of a nod. He's watched men falling apart from scurvy in front of his eyes, so Arthur's appearance only makes him a little sad. What sort of life must that have been?

"Of course." He steps back and leans against a tree, curling the rope between his hand and elbow. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Despite the cold, Thomas doesn't ask for his coat back. He's only in his shirtsleeves, which are rolled up to his elbows. He doesn't so much as shiver.

"We should get you to a fire, and quickly."