Wolves are massive, good gracious. Huaisang manages to handle the nosing without leaping out of reach, tentatively trusting at least that this isn't some kind of elaborate trap by man and wolf to spirit him away and eat him for supper, or something. It's the voices of ghosts still trying to wrap around him that steady his resolve, ironically enough - he can see the battering of too many false perceptions quite clearly, in this other man's desperate gait.

And— and the wolf calls him brother, and Huaisang is nothing if not predictable when it comes to a soft spot for the bonds of brotherhood.

Now, then, does he snap the fan shut and move forward to meet the two of them halfway (here on this street; baby steps). His hummingbird heartbeat drums against his ribs with genuine anxiety he's trying valiantly to ignore, the uncertainty of this strange meeting tangling into his lack of sleep, the feeling of being followed—

"You're lost in the streets, ah-" What in hell did the wolf call him; Huaisang's gaze darts to Nighteyes for a moment, brow furrowed, before he adds, "Changer-xiansheng."

(Yeah, that's going to have to change, definitely.)

"This one is called Nie Huaisang. Your brother asked me to find a place to rest." There; that's all perfectly well and good, very reasonable, and it's a relief to see lucidity in Fitz's face, if a little muddled— which means it only makes dreadful sense that that is the exact moment Huaisang hears the scrape and clash of a saber being dragged and thrown to the ground in his own addled perception. He startles again and this time moves forward, towards man and wolf and away from his ghosts. (Really, just the one.) Ahem.

"The city streets are unsafe, so..."