"Hm," didn't mean anything overtly obvious. The teasing continued; Edric set the water down by his foot, freeing his hands to light a cigarette. The flame from the match was barely visible in the hazy heat and the scent of the smoke turned the air spicy without a breeze to carry it away. Smoke drifting from his lips without mind, Edric glanced around to take in the whole of their nondescript surroundings and spread his arms, somewhere in the middle of acquiescence of her ignorance (the landmarks were quite difficult to point out, after all) and exasperation with it (the fucking desert, fuckhead).
"Do not look at him," he advised and returned the cigarette to his lips to give her a minute to sort out this instruction. "He is as good as a fucking heathen, he does not give a fuck." If she was going to make any allies, it would be on Edric's instruction, otherwise.
Without inviting a response and without repeating the rules again, he said, "You are going to die out here." It wasn't a question, but if she was clever in the least she would know she still had the same choices. Even unsaid, the rules hadn't changed.