It's...it's okay. There's reassurance from the statue, which is about as much reassurance he's going to get for the current situation, and...honestly, he believes it. He wants to believe the statue, and the part of him that had been starved for love for so long will always have trouble doubting that much sincerity and compassion.

And gods, he is tired.

"Okay," he says quietly. "Thank you." For helping Potato. For caring at all, let alone so much. He still doesn't know who or what the statue is, but he is grateful.

He sets his pack down, removes his blanket, wraps it around himself, and settles down into the long, soft grass with his pack under his head like a pillow. Within seconds, he is sound asleep.