He rubs at his face with one hand, feeling a little foolish. Now that he's stopped to think about it, it's been a long while since he slept; he should have accounted for this, only he'd been stressed, and then the Knight had been a surprise, and then their trip had been a series of distractions. It isn't like he planned to be gone at all, never mind so long.

Dirtmouth isn't the warmest, but he isn't particularly cold, why are they offering him a blanket?

Lemm stares dully at it until it clicks: it is probably an invitation to sleep here.

...Ah. That sends a convenient jolt through his nerves.

He wants to say no, but maybe that would be taken as a rejection of their hospitality? Not worth the risk. Lemm settles for a mild, sideways dip of his horns instead. Kind of a non-answer, but easy to read as a yes. To the blanket. Not the implication.