Sylvain snorts, something like amusement turning up the corners of his mouth. He'd really hate to see where else this lost fellow has had to stay. Not that he has much room to speak, given where he's actively chosen to make his home these days, and Irithyll is still one of the nicer places left in the world.

"Don't thank me yet. At least let me make sure the ghosts and centipedes don't come visit you in the night." Sylvain unhooks a set of heavy keys from his belt, and approaches the door descending into the lower level. He makes sure it's locked well, and then drags a heavy table over for good measure. He turns it over to blockade it, pauses for a moment, and then grabs a few chairs to shore it up for good measure.

"That ought to do. They're not particularly smart or strong, so just ignore the skittering. They'll get bored eventually."

Sylvain leans his chin into his hand, trying to think of what else he's meant to do as a host. It's been an age... warm hearth, locked doors, there's a few old straw mats to sleep on too.

"Hm, do you eat?"