Wren had a hand against his mouth in what was usually a parody of horror but which was genuine coming from him. Jeremiah's lack of anger and/or dismay helped ease Wren's guilt a little though, although he personally couldn't bear to see dirt on what once had been the beautiful clean floor.
"Oh, this is socks." he hastened to explain, lifting his feet one by one and pulling them off unceremoniously anyway. He padded barefoot over to the door and lay his filthy, sodden socks down side by side. His feet were white with cold and he left little damp imprints behind him on the floor which faded away in the warmth.
He returned and took the towel from Jeremiah with a 'thank you' wiping hands that he'd already wiped off on his top.
He was given a small flurry of choices next and he didn't know what all of it was, nevermind what option to pick. He stood fretting about this and hesitantly offered- "I like strawberries, I haven't had them warm. I had eggs one time but I didn't like them." he'd found a nest and, starving, had cracked one of the eggs open to eat raw; he hadn't thrown it back up but it had been a near thing, and he was already in tears about the bird in the first place.