"It's good to meet you Wren," Jeremiah offered with a smile and then he nodded his head back in the direction he'd come. "My house is back that way," he told the young man, and waited for him to climb to his feet, watching him, perhaps trying to sort through and figure him out, or perhaps, as a writer might, cataloging pieces of him into a notebook where he might be retrieved in the future, but just pieces at a time and nothing that would completely be recognizable as the young man in front of him.
Heart seemed to sense that she'd found a new friend, and she hung back with Wren, nosing at his dirty hand, and seemingly trying to stay as near to him as might be physically possible. Perhaps thinking he needed to be warmed up.
"And it's certain, she likes you," Jeremiah offered with a bit of a chuckle. "I could also do tea, or hot cocoa if you'd rather. Wouldn't be much different after I've heated up the water." When he was on his own in the morning like this, he almost always did a pour-over, saving the espresso machine for times when he really wanted to treat himself. His green eyes glanced over the young man and he added, curiously: "What are the worms for?"