[Open]Escaping the corpse swallower

Kalt lifted his head from his book when a voice sounded in the infirmary, his brows furrowing. There was a hint of desperation in the man’s tone; not that it really mattered, but the assassin wasn’t exactly fond of treating scraped knees.    He emerged from what he had claimed as his office, and raised his brows at the man stumbling in.    “Fucking hells,” Kalt muttered, his eyes drawn to the obvious symptoms. Sweating, flushed, likely dizzy by the way he was walking - or stumbling, rather.    The man slipped his gloves on quickly and approached the other. “Come on,” he said, and would lead/help the other man into a room with a raised cot. “Sit, stay sitting, and tell me what happened,” he directed, as he took a bowl of water and a rag, setting it on the table beside the cot. He knew he would need more than just that, but from just the fever symptoms, it was an infected wound that needed to be treated.