He was thinking pretty much exactly that, judging from the expression on his face. "Aye, well. We'll see," he says. With any luck, whoever had lived in this building had left behind something that would work and it would be a non-issue. Maybe a table leg or something - it'd be short, but he could use it like a cane.

For now, though, luck seems to be keeping enemies away and not really helping in terms of walking support. "Och," he says crossly, "Look, would ye let me come help if I promise not to put any weight on my leg?"