Hideaway Strath Schlammschlacht.

He did know of the sickness. And was determined to not catch it. He knew he was getting on and wasn't about to let some sickness be the sart of his downfall. So he'd kept away from the infected few, caught his own prey and drank from streams. He knew how to not get sick. Anything someone sick had touched might make him sick.
But he was in the clear now; hopefully.

At least he'd made her smile. Good start.
"Sweet. I need to know your secret language." And to stop her yelling to communicate because that was just not very sneaky was it.
He plopped down in the patch of sun, glad for its warmth cast across his back. He'd probably have a nap later.
"So, what's yah first point?" No beating around the bush for this.