Alexander considered her question for a moment. There wasn't much to get ready; he just needed to change the linen out for clean ones. But he decided not to say that. She already seemed to believe he was doing too much for her, that she owed him a great deal, so if she was offering to help here, he would let her. As someone who hated accepting help himself, he understood the need to not feel indebted, to feel like you were doing something to contribute.
So he smiled brightly and nodded. "Sure. The bed's gotta be made and, well, I'm not the best at making it look pretty. Besides, it's a chore that passes quicker with two, eh? It's right over here."
He lead the way into the room, which was cozy and minimalistic as the rest of the home. He kept his old weapons there, sword sheathed and placed atop a chest at the foot of the bed, as well as a smaller dagger, because when you lived alone, you could never be too sure, and times were getting rougher. The bed was mussed and the pillows on it were tossed, one on the floor. It was the one area he and his wife could never agree on, and the one area he didn't keep painstakingly tidy, because in Alexander's mind, why bother making the bed when you were just gonna mess it up again at the end of the day?
He moved to one side of the bed and started to strip off the blankets. "There's fresh linens in that chest there," he said, pointing to the end of his bed. "Ah, don't mind the sword."