He does not. In fact he absently reaches up to adjust the way the cloak sits on his shoulders, and if his hand strays to pat Greenhorn's horns en-route that's not through any conscious effort of his -- wait what is he doing. Lemm's hand snaps back to his side.

A terse nod. "I should think so! You need a good soak, anyway." A glance down at himself, and Lemm makes an unhappy noise and smooths down his beard. The ends are picking up road dust, and probably worse. He relents a bit. "Maybe you're not the only one. Alright. We'll stop off at the spring first, then..."

Lemm starts walking. It's easier not to have to look at the Knight sometimes.

"Then the Stag. And then you can be done with all of this. I'm sure you have places to be."