[No, no he wasn't. He was being truthful of his own accord and that, once the concern passed, made Adele relax enough to offer him a smile and soft laugh. She pulls her hand back, slips her glove on again and resumes sipping her cider. Honesty from a master thief. She may very well have to consider him a friend, now.]

Good. The very last thing you need right now is to be ill on top of your ribs. If you were sick I cannot help but think you'd hang half outside your window throwing snowballs down on the populace for amusement.