"Neverland?" Rodya repeated, sounding rather weak and sickly once again... "I mean... Piotr Pan? As in -- a taz....? Or - sorry, you do not speak my language, do you? I meant a - a wa-washbasin..." He grimaced slightly, wondering where this girl's washbasin was even, for he desperately needed to splash his face with some cold water to keep from fainting!
He then thought to ask her: "I mean... where your washbasin, anyway's?" He made a motion with his hands, just in case he'd gotten the term wrong in English in the first place, but as if he was ladling water up over the washbasin onto his countenance.
He then... stumbled over to the couch so gracefully offered for him to sit upon, and lay down upon it instead; it's what he was used to, in his won flat, where he was accustomed to sleeping upon the sofa chaise lounge, with several old shirts under his head as a pillow...!