At ‘respect’, he glances away, a muscle in his jaw flexing until his mind on the matter is made. That his wishes are being respected is all he had asked for in the end and he relents, reluctantly, with a quiet sigh through his nose. He’s not unarmed, having pocketed two of his best picks among the daggers from the weapons shop even if their make left something to be desired. But he could use furs, and if Zevran feels as ill-adjusted and ungainly as himself, he imagines they’d have little luck hunting quickly and successfully for meat and pelts.

“Very well.”

Isaac motions forward with a nudge of his chin before setting an easy pace, grass rustling underfoot.“I would best take the lead. The sight of your face shall have something of a disarming effect upon them -- even if it belongs not to you for the moment.”