Not quite mentally broken. Not quite physically broken, either. Sinjir studies the figure through lids almost completely shut, and then he, very quietly, shifts out from under the blanket and onto the ground. His outer wrappings have been stripped away, leaving the tunic beneath. Sweat and sand, but no true injury. He is thirsty, though.

He tries to speak, coughs, and then has to roll his tongue around his mouth to moisten it. "To whom do I owe my salvation?" he asks, soft and just a hint sardonic, in case there's a hidden price (there's always a hidden price). He is grateful, of course, that he hasn't been executed for trespass. The law of the desert says that all oases are places of peace, shelter, free passage to water. That doesn't mean that the law is always followed.