"Good for morale..." he repeats to himself. That's soldier talk if he ever heard any; it wouldn't sound too strange in the mouths of one or two people Alfyn got to know on his journeys.

The similarity just makes him like Bulat more.

Alfyn keeps walking to look in a cabinet, since there's no way two strapping gents like them will be able to search a closet that stuffed without knocking everything over into a bigger mess.

"We'll need more than a broom for a clean house, won't we? Gotta make sure everything we'll want to use right away is spick and span. That'll be tableware, cooking gear, chamber pots... well, hopefully those won't need cleaning, after going unused this long."

The thought of an un-emptied chamber pot sitting around for a season or more... eugh, gadzooks.