Albel saw the folded bits of fabric and moved forward without hesitation, setting his stick down with only a quick wary glance towards his host. He pulled out one of the circles and shook it out. Well, it would make a good replacement for his sarong, with the hole in the middle, if only he could get it on.
He cast another glance towards Orha, then resolutely turned his back on the man. He was going to look ridiculous, but he was determined not to care.
One-handed, he started to struggle into the first piece of fabric. The most irritating part was how he was constantly trying to reach to help with his left hand. It still somehow felt like it was there, even though he'd lost the hand almost eight years before.