No, it doesn't hurt at all. Thank you for your hospitality.

[ he transfers the potted flower back to his flesh hand when their fingers part. if he minds her looking at his prosthetic-- it's some kind of light wood, and ball-jointed like a doll's-- he makes no indication. the sleeve on that side is rolled up to the elbow of it, so it's not as if he's trying to hide it. it's perhaps more strange that the other arm of his shirt isn't folded high to match, the hem left to skirt his wrist. ]

I haven't, actually. [ he turns his head for a moment, blue eyes skimming the bustling brocade of people and goods that pass around them like river water meeting a stone. he returns his attention to her with a cheerful expression. ] I'd like that! But only if you actually have the time, of course. Otherwise I don't mind getting myself lost for the fun of it.

[ he doesn't want to saddle anyone with tour duty when they had only offered because it was the polite thing to do for newcomers. ]