"Oh, don't you worry about me," he assures and makes a gesture at the tent around them. "I am out of any wind and rain there might be and the ground is pleasantly dry for once. I have no complaints and I may even slumber a bit, myself. But I thank you for your caring."

It isn't likely that he will sleep, though. It isn't that he doesn't sleep; he just doesn't need it the same way a human does. A prolonged period without would be uncomfortable to say the least but a night's vigil won't harm him. As for him becoming sick... It simply isn't possible. He can't tell her any of this, though. He must stay in his masquerade.

Moving from his kneeling position he extinguishes all lanterns save one that he leaves burning low, if only for show. Then he resettles, cross-legged for comfort this time, to wait out the night. From his satchel he takes out a pocket-sized leather-bound notebook and a small writing kit with ink and pen. He may spend the time writing notes, to help keep track of her symptoms and treatments.