Ivar glances down at his legs in a self-conscious manner when she says that. There's a good reason he wears pants all the time, for he hates the sight of what his legs look like. Poor weak withered things, no muscles, just gaunt bones stretched out over taut skin.

He's been kneeling this whole time on his knees, using the rock as a support to keep him upright, but now he shifts around so he can sit down for a moment. He needs a break to keep his bones from aching so much. "You'll have to get to know me much better before we get to that point."