Ha. Better she laugh about it than worry about what he's doing, at the moment. Dirt and bits of debris does seem to be washing out with each press, along with a healthy amount of red-tinged water. He'll need to re-soak it before too long, perhaps with something to actually treat any potential infection the potion may have missed. A fever was the last thing they needed to worry about.

He's every bit as delicate about it as he would be with a needle and thread, repairing his clothing. Or with a lock that needed opening, or a trap that needed disarming, or a lover who needed pleasing. His hands are very steady, very skilled, but that doesn't mean he isn't focusing intently on his current task.

Still. He does look amused by her impression of his initial attempt to get answers. No. He hadn't thought much of her at all, at the start. "I'll have to make a point of telling you more often, then," he replies lightly, brows arching as he cleans the edge of another puncture before adjusting his posture, crouched beside her as he is.

"A fierce and clever beauty the likes of which ballads should be written, if you couldn't out-write all the bards in the Sword Coast yourself."