Comic Sans said: Katrin sheathes her sword, letting her shield arm drop to her side wearily as the last of their attackers falls. She frowns as the doctor begins a surgical examination of their foes, his comments to seemingly no one in particular strange and foreign to her ears. When he addresses the rest of them, she shakes her head, turning away from the odd surgery. "I'm fine for the moment. I just want to get off this lake and this boat," she looks pointedly at her brother, wincing slightly as her body reminds her that she is, in fact, not quite fine. Stop being so gods-damned stubborn, she silently berates herself. Sighing, she turns back to the doctor. "Actually, I wouldn't mind a little pick-me-up." "Well then," Renley smiles gingerly under his hat as he nods to the dwarf. Pulling a handkerchief from his inner breast pocket, he wipes his hands of the viscera left from his makeshift-autopsy and puts away his scalpel. "Let's see what we can do, hmm?" Approaching her, he reaches out towards her side where a particularly deep gash runs the length of her forearm, hesitating for a second to be sure she was okay with his touch. Delicately, he turns the limb over as he inspects the full-extent of the wounds further. Most were minor bruises and cuts, but this one bore the potential for greater harm. Clicking his tongue, Renley sets about searching his kit for some balms and wraps. "This may require a bit more..." He sets them to the side before procuring an ornate-looking flask from his coat. The casing is black as night, save for curving lines of silver etched like scars across the entirety of its surface in an odd pattern. Unscrewing the lid, he pauses. "This may burn a bit but Ah assure you it looks worse than it is," he says with a chuckle. Taking a quick swig from the flask, he ungloves his hand and reaches for the wound, bony fingers stretching to their limits as they encircle the arm and — due to her size — themselves. From beneath the rim of his hat, Katrin can see his eyes — already golden in hue — take on an eerie glow as the veins on his hand pulse with a blackness that races back through his sleeve, up his neck, and stretch across his face. The wound's pain surges but for a moment, before she feels the worst of it fade from her body, as if channeled through the good doctor's very hand itself. She can see him wince ever-so-slightly, his chest tightening, before he finally sighs. "There," Veins and eyes fading back to normal, he smiles and pulls his hand back, the majority of the damage now sealed up as if no harm had come to her. Returning the flask to his coat, he dresses the arm up for good measure and gives her a friendly smile. "Should be right as rain, mon cherie ."