He wiped his hands with one side of the towel, mostly cleansing it of filth, and then used the other side to wipe his face clean of built-up grime. It wasn't the level of cleanliness that he, as a gypsy, was used to, but he of all people knew that zakono codes of purification couldn't always be followed. So he made do with the towel, nodding to his savior in thanks before taking the mug.
Considering the circumstances, he did very well in restraining himself, but he still swallowed half the drink in one gulp. Liquid. Sustenance. His mouth burned and his stomach bucked unhappily at the sudden intrusion, but at the same time, it took enormous willpower to put the mug down and give himself a moment to readjust to actually drinking. To distract himself from the desire to simply gorge himself, he spoke. "Your people have done much for mine. We will not forget this."