By the time he's finished talking, Lacey has lowered her arm to her side, realizing, even through her fever-fogged brain, that he's not a threat to her. At least, no more of a threat than any of the other people here. Concern from strangers is always a little bit suspect to her, though, if only because she has come to expect that anybody offering to help her with anything will want something in return. Compassion or altruism for its own sake is a little foreign.

She knows she probably looks awful, but that doesn't stop her from shaking her head, and then trying not to wince when even that movement makes her feel a little dizzy. "I'm fine. Thank you."

And she's just going to... sit down on the bench, because standing up suddenly feels like a little too much.