Once Javert is settled on the ground, Rue comes to perch beside him. Not too close, the owlbear has had too many run-ins with those fearful of them based on their appearance, but nearby enough to continue their conversation with ease while the pair of them figure out just how to break free of this place.

They are quiet while they listen to the man speak his grievances aloud, talking of how out of balance he has felt since arriving, a feeling Rue remembers too vividly from their own nebulous arrival. But then that shark pops up to nose almost affectionately against him and Rue knows they must step in before this poor soul loses his mind completely.

The owlbear pinches the little bow holding the bag together between two talons and tugs it free, before they are stepping closer and offering him a pastel-colored macaron.

"Please, take one. I hardly need them all."

After this mess, they both deserve a little something sweet.

Whether he takes one or not, Rue will pocket the rest in favor of scooping up Javert's meal for him.

"Sit back and breathe, my friend. Here-" Not to mother this total stranger too much, but they pop the top off of the stew and press it back carefully into his hands. "Eat. You will feel more like yourself after a few bites. Ignore the sharks, just focus on my voice. You will be fine."