His eyebrows quirk up at the tearing of the shirt, but he doesn't object, instead flashing a smile and a wink at Nacho when he accepts the strip of fabric.

"Thanks, love, kind of you to sacrifice your tunic for the cause."

What cause? He immediately uses the strip of fabric to wipe his blade clean, in case the juices from the vines have some quality that might degrade the state of his steel. Once done, he treks over to the pack left in the dirt, tucking it into the front portion. Nothing's started being devoured, so he figures for the moment, it's safe enough. He can always burn all the fabric later if it's contaminated.

"There's a staircase if you get far enough, past the muttering, cane-wielding old man lurking in the heart of this nonsense."