"I love tea. Me and my spouse actually got a special blend in the canister up on the top shelf over there. Ginger and rose and lemon verbena, good for warding off malevolent spirits where I'm from." Dan points at a bookshelf that has some odds and ends, including the canister in question, although his hand still has a claw-like appearance from the cold. "I'd be happy to share it with you."

He's observing Miguel as much as he's being observed, and making no judgments. The red eyes don't alarm him, and the gesture of kindness has provided a complicating context for the otherwise aloof posture. Dan's curious. He likes being curious, likes looking for information instead of just assuming it.

"You got a name or should I might could come up with one for you?" He sits cross-legged in front of the fireplace and starts to unwind a scarf from around his neck. It's slow going. Once he gets that off, he takes the rice pack - just now cooled enough and not-on-fire enough to be touchable - and holds the pack in his lap like a kitten, kneading his fingers into it to revive them.