There's a lengthy pause as the other questions whether he has any idea which way the ocean is or if he can make heads or tails of left or right in this fog. Which, he can't, if he's honest but the annoyance in the other's tone has his usual snappy sarcasm bubbling up.

"Look, if a demon or one of those spirits happens to decide we look like good fun to murder, then I can maybe defend us with my magic. I do not have the ability to see through dense, poisonous fog." That's a no.

"Lets just pick a direction and start walking, it's better than standing here asking questions neither of us have the answer to. Besides, I don't think you'll last on your feet for much longer." His healing will keep the other upright, but he honestly has no idea how bad his wounds are. He just sees a ...well, a mess. Mostly on his face and his magics are extremely limited and weaker than normal. Which is as frustrating as this fog.