She bristles at the jab, though he still doesn't threaten her. Mage or not, Martin Septim or a stranger, he's still skin and bones. She could just as easily shove him over and slit his throat and she'd probably have the advantage despite his experience. "And here you were, offering it in exchange for food." Some emperor.

As he rises, she watches him, though she makes no move to follow. The back of her neck prickles with frustration and she resists every call that says to snap back at him. But if he'll stay here and recover... She has time.

"Do as you will," she says, though her tone is softer, more polite for the moment. "I want answers but you won't be able to help if you're falling over. Go and rest." The request is more of a command, gruff.