Lexa respects someone who is as cautious in this place as she is. She trusts Clarke, but trusting the people here is asking a great deal of her. In time she might be able to change her mind into seeing this group of them as a new clan to care for, but for now, they are strangers. Potentially dangerous ones. She was not afraid to die, but she is no in hurry to die again.

She likes him. It's an instinct. His words are the right kind of reassuring, pragmatic and useful. She has remarkable composure and physical presence, despite her appearance, but it very slightly eases as her attention focuses solely on him. "Ai du wich in Klark. Du nou fir." Lexa reassures him of that first, before addressing the other part of what he said. "Hani yirons?"