"Oh, would you? My fragile ego has gone so unflattered, lately." Anders bats his own eyes a little, for effect, though it does nothing to cut through the cheerfully thick sarcasm in his reply. She may not find it easy to eschew more serious things, but he certainly isn't going to critique the effort. It works in his favor, after all, and he'll gladly take that - she's not half bad, anyway.

"Really," he repeats, a touch disbelieving, but doesn't push it any further. There's no need to, regardless, as they're already on the verge of entering the temple proper, and she's clearly in no danger of immediately keeling over.

Her behavior once they actually get inside is... a little more concerning. But he doesn't insist on following, when she ducks away with her hastily grabbed bottle - even if he does peer after her curiously, still. Why she'd feel the need to run off just to drink a potion, he can't possibly imagine, but perhaps it's impolite not to, wherever she's from. Either way, she looks well enough when she returns, as he pretends to have been entirely minding his own business, during her brief sojourn to the other end of the hall.

"Maybe another time. Strangely, I don't have much of an appetite, at the moment." The brackish, sea salt smell of the fog and the images of walking corpses it conjures is going to linger on him a while, he suspects. "I wouldn't mind a quick breather, though."

Although this place seems to be all high ceilings and dubious comfort, at the moment.