No, not the scraps. [ Said with a little bit of a laugh, as though the concept of talking cloth is ridiculous. It shouldn't be, especially here, but Cole shakes his head anyway. ]

The people who used to wear the scraps. You wouldn't like it if someone took your clothes to make things, would you? [ He brushes a finger over the burnt, tattered edge of one of them, a soft red velvet that looks almost the same shade as blood. It's an idle question, asked in his heart instead of out loud, but the feeling he gets in response isn't bad. He nudges the piece and its accompanying pile in Wen Qing's direction. ]

There shouldn't be any trouble if you use these bits. She won't mind.